


Early Morning Calls

by Tahlruil



Series: Phone a Friend [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Author Is Sleep Deprived, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, Language, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Humor, Steve Rogers Likes to Give Them, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, handwavey medical science, intense friendship, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing quite like getting yanked out of a dead sleep by a phone call, especially when you don't even know the person on the other end. But when you're as used to crazy as Steve, staying on the line doesn't seem like a bad idea at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um. First fic in this fandom, and I... I don't know. Been working on it all night. It's... I don't know. XD I've been trying to beat a scene from another fic into submission for like, weeks, but I found a prompt on Tumblr and then this happened. May continue it? May not? Depends. I apologize for any gross mischaracterizations or wrong-ness. XD Mostly going off MCU and fics I've read here.
> 
> Prompt: "Hey you called this number at like 3AM and we talked about some pretty heavy shit do you remember any of that?" AU from Daily AU Prompts on Tumblr, courtesy of toxixpumpkin
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy! <3

Giant chinchillas had _not_ been in the brief, and Sergeant Freedom would definitely be speaking to the team’s handler about the oversight. They weren’t exactly easy to miss, after all, so someone had clearly dropped the ball somewhere. A scolding had been well-earned, and he was just the man to deliver it. “Awww,” came a voice over his comm, breaking into the happy fantasy of leveling his Disappointed Look™ at someone. “They’re kind of cute, aren’t they? And I bet they don’t really _mean_ to be breaking things.” Damnit, why wasn’t he surprised that EagleBeak sounded enamored with the things? Now he was going to want one, and there was no way he knew how to actually care for a chinchilla. His ownership would be of the incredibly irresponsible variety.

“No.”

“But _Sarge_ -”

“No.” Taking in the threat with American Stoicism™, Sergeant Freedom assessed the two plans that came to mind immediately, then discarded them almost as fast. Just as his mouth opened to ask his team for their input, one chinchilla opened its mouth. He braced for a roar or unearthly squeak… and was instead regaled with both music and lyrics.

“It’s the police!” the beast announced, hopping forward and smashing a police station beneath its adorable little paws. It was a move that was both somewhat ironic and entirely impossible, as the nearest station was fifteen minutes away. How had it moved here?

“Calling you!” The other six monsters crooned, swaying in place.

Sergeant Freedom was confused, to say the least.

As the backup chinchillas asked him what he’d done in those same crooning tones, the illusion shattered. Sergeant Freedom ceased to exist, and Steve Rogers lurched out of the dream world and reluctantly stumbled past the borders of consciousness. Sirens were now blaring from his cell phone, at odds with the more mellow music it joined, and Steve was going to **kill** Clint once he was awake enough to remember where the idiot lived. He knew Steve didn’t know how to change his ringtone, and this one was just ridiculous! Why did he keep trusting his friend with his belongings?

As he groped blindly for the device, a sense of urgency gripped him as a thought made itself known: Nat! That could be Nat or Maria calling from the hospital. The baby wasn’t due for another two months, but the pregnancy had been difficult and maybe they _needed_ him, and-

“Fuck!” The word was less a bellow and more a whimper, but that wasn’t really Steve’s fault. Tumbling out of bed to hit the floor – hard – was enough to render any mostly-awake person pathetic. Since he’d managed to clip the charging cord with his elbow, his cell very helpfully tumbled from his nightstand and smacked him on the head; he was able to answer it before the annoying ringtone faded.

“’Lo?” he asked, sleep and fear making his voice rough. What if something happened to Maria? What if something was wrong with the baby? What if Nat was having one of her hard nights? What if Clint had finally pissed off the wrong person or gotten arrested? What if something had happened to Bucky, an unlikely but terrifying scenario? What if what if what if?

“What do you know about quantum mechanics?” The voice was entirely unfamiliar, male, and full of exhaustion.

The only possible response was to sit in silence and blink.

“Gonna take that as a ‘nothing’. Great. Just great. I can already tell this is going to be another fascinating conversation, and I’ll be dazzled by your sparkling wit. A true meeting of the minds. Jesus Christ, I can’t fucking wait. Don’t know why the hell Pep and Brucie-bear keep ratting me out to all the scientists I used to call – every time I manage to get their numbers again, they change. If I could call one of them at least I’d be able to have an interesting conversation. But maybe it’s okay. I can work with this. Speak. Bore me. Maybe it’ll put me to sleep. Hit me guy. Give me your best and blandest.”

Not Natasha or Maria, so the baby was fine and so were they. Not Clint either, though he wouldn’t put it past the idiot to have put the mystery man up to this. He hadn’t even expected Bucky, but it was a relief to know his best friend wasn’t hurt. Still, the nonsensical ranting had Steve grasping at straws, and he really didn’t know what he was supposed to say… and he was feeling vaguely offended. He wasn’t boring. Sure, he knew jack squat about quantum mechanics, but he wasn’t boring!

“Still waiting, guy. Fuck, you’re even more boring than I thought. Or did you fall back asleep? You did, didn’t you? You fell back asleep and I can’t sleep and you’re just rubbing it in my face, you bastard. Fine. That’s the way you want to play? Fine. I’ll wake you back up. Dummy!”

First he was boring, then a bastard, and now he was a dummy? This man was awfully insulting, and Steve was pretty sure he ought to just hang up. Yeah, that was the best option. Then he could get up off the floor, crawl back into bed, then fall asleep and finish his dream of Sergeant Freedom and the Revenge Brigade. He wanted to know how they were going to beat those chinchillas.

Just as he was about to pull the cell away from his ear and click the little red phone on the screen that would get him his night back, the noises he heard coming from the other end had him pausing. It sounded like several metal things being dropped, and there was a strange whirring – what was going on? More whirring and dropping, a few muttered curses from his mystery man, and then… was that a fire extinguisher? The other man yelped and began shouting enthusiastically, his voice farther away like he’d put his phone down. He had no idea what was going on, but in his head he could picture a man jumping up and down, waving his arms in frustration. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh a little – life was so weird sometimes.

“Hah! My evil plan worked!” The voice was close again; clearly he’d heard and come back to the phone.

“Your plan was to set off a fire extinguisher in the hopes that I’d laugh?”

“Not exactly, no. I just wanted to wake you up.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Then why weren’t you talking? That’s what these things are for, you know. Well, that and taking nude selfies. Do you have any nude selfies you’d like to share?”

“Uh… No?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t judge you. I’ll treat your nude selfies with all the respect they deserve. I’ll hold them in the highest regard and think of you fondly whenever I see them.”

“I don’t have any nude selfies.” Steve had meant to sound irritated, but even he could hear the laughter in his voice. “Who are you? And do you know it’s...” Craning his neck, he managed to catch a glimpse of his alarm clock and winced. “It’s three-fifteen.”

“Yeah. That’s why I called.”

“It’s three-fifteen in the morning.”

“Already established.”

“It’s three-fifteen in the morning and I have no idea who you are.”

“You’re really dwelling on the time here, and it’s kind of ruining the mood. Can we go back to the nudes you promised to send me?”

“I promised you nothing.” Damnit, he needed to sound madder. Fond exasperation was not going to cut it here. Vaguely, he thought the fact that he wasn’t even that angry or phased said something about him, his life and his circle of friends. “But fine, I won’t mention the fact that it’s three in the morning again. Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“…” It was really a shame that he couldn’t level his ‘I am not impressed with you’ face over the phone. That one brought all his friends into line when used properly, and this mystery man clearly needed a handler. It was like one of the Revenge Brigade had escaped his dreams to torment him. “My name is Steve.” Maybe if he humored the man, he’d get a name and then be able to say goodnight and hang up. He had to get up in less than two hours if he wanted to take his usual morning jog before he went in to work.

“But how is that who you _are _? ‘Steve’ tells me nothing about the man. Tell me about the man beneath the name.”__

“This is ridiculous.”

“Stevie-kins,” the mystery man whined, making Steve roll his eyes and let his head thunk back against the nightstand. “Just talk to me, okay? I promise it’ll be good, I’ll take care of you if you take care of me. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Is this a prank? Did you get my number from Clint?”

“Who’s Clint? No, I just… sometimes when I can’t sleep I dial random numbers. I used to call scientists and that was fun, but Pep and Bruce keep cock-blocking me. Traitors.”

“Why don’t you call them?”

“Because I don’t have a death wish? Besides, they’re busy people. I can’t interrupt their lives every time I need something.” Those words were delivered in a tone that suggested the speaker didn’t really believe what he was saying. The mystery man had clearly been trained.

The sigh he let out was entirely justified in his mind, and for good measure, Steve raised his head and then hit it against the nightstand once more. “I’m a busy person too, you know. Why can you interrupt _my_ life?”

“That’s a fair point, and I’ll take it into consideration next time. For now though, just talk to me, okay?”

“Give me your name first.” A weighty silence fell, and Steve thought the man might hang up. “Any name, then. Just something to call you.” He coaxed, surprising himself – he sort of wanted this crazy conversation to continue.

“… Tony.”

“Tony.” He repeated it the way he repeated every name he was told, rolling it around on his tongue to save for later. Clint and Maria had told him several times that the way he said names was almost obscene; when he’d told the story to Bucky looking for a bit of sympathy, his best friend had agreed. Apparently ‘Tony’ did too, because there was a sort of gasp in his ear, followed by a smothered whimper. “Okay. What am I supposed to talk to you about Tony? Quantum mechanics are definitely out.” He added quickly. “I’m not even real sure what that actually is, to be honest.”

“Of course you aren’t. You’re a rube. Don’t get your panties in a bunch about it, everyone’s a rube compared to me.” Tony added quickly – like that made it better. “And I don’t know. Anything. Tell me about this Clint person and why you think he gave me your number.” Sounds in the background again, ones that sort of reminded him of the sounds he heard while waiting at the car repair place.

“Uh… it’s almost three thirty in the morning-”

“You said you wouldn’t mention the time again! No more dwelling! Dwellers are boring!”

“And you want me to tell you about my friend Clint?” Steve finished, pretending the interruption had never happened.

“Well you won’t tell me about Steve.”

“You say that like your logic is… logical.”

“I’m always logical.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony gave a squawk of indignation, and Steve found himself laughing again as he rearranged his long limbs. Floors were uncomfortable, and nightstands weren’t really cozy either. Reaching up, he snagged a pillow from his bed and tucked it behind his back, giving another sigh. “Clint, huh? Well, he’s… he’s a good guy, at heart. The kind you want at your back when things are going south, because he’s always _got_ your back. He’s just a bit… twisted sometimes. His sense of humor, I mean. He likes to wind people up and see how they respond.”

“So I guess a three AM call would be right up his alley?”

“Oh yeah.” Tony sounded calmer, he noticed, the manic babbling tapered back into the exhaustion he’d heard earlier. “It would be a really tame prank for him though. Once, on his birthday – he waited until then because he _knew_ we wouldn’t abandon him on his birthday – he insisted we drive him out to some little town in the middle of nowhere and go to the local bar.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It wasn’t, until he started kissing every guy who had a beard.” Tony let out a surprised huff of laughter, a loud ‘clink’ coming through the speaker at the same time. Feeling accomplished, Steve smiled and switched the phone to his other ear. “Yeah. First kiss almost started a brawl, the second almost got him arrested for indecent exposure, and it just went downhill from there. Nat had to threaten him before he’d stop… and even then he got one last kiss in. Bucky was never so happy he’d let himself get scruffy – he even let Clint hide behind him until Nat cooled off. Brave man.”

“Nat and Bucky?” It was a prompt, a prod, and the tinkering sounds were getting softer, slower, which Steve decided was a good sign.

“Yeah. Nat is… well. She terrifies most people, I guess. Even Clint’s scared of her, and they’ve been friends for almost as long as me and Bucky. But she isn’t so bad when you get to know her. I mean, she could definitely kick my ass, don’t get me wrong, but… she’s got a softer side too. You just don’t get to see it unless she decides you’re worth it. We almost dated for a while, but it wasn’t going to go anywhere, so I helped her woo-”

“Woo? Did you just use ‘woo’ in a serious, non-ironic fashion? Are you ninety?”

“It’s a perfectly good word!” Steve protested, feeling himself start to blush. “And it’s what happened! Maria needed wooing, deserved to be wooed, and Nat liked doing it. Anyway, I helped them get together. Maria’s a great gal. Lady.” He amended hastily, sure the breath he heard the other man suck in was going to be used to make fun of him. “Real good at what she does, not afraid to stand up for what she thinks is right. She cares a lot, and I think Nat needed that in her life. They’re great together. Got married as soon as it was made legal, and they’ve got a baby on the way. I’m the godfather.” He added proudly.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to _tell_ people you’re in the mafia.” Tony teased, making Steve roll his eyes and give a snort.

“Damn, I should have read the rulebook more closely.” More laughter, and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle along quietly. “Anyway, you know what I meant.”

“Did they pick you because you hooked ‘em up?”

“Uh…” Steve hesitated, unsure, then shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know Tony, was never going to meet him – what did it matter if he knew? It wasn’t exactly a secret, even if they didn’t talk about it much with outsiders. “No. Well not just because of that. I also donated my, um, stuff.”

“’Stuff’?” The vast amusement in Tony’s voice would have been embarrassing even without the condescending note in it.

“Can it. They both wanted a kid, and they asked if I’d, you know, help out. It won’t really be mine, but I’ll still get to be there. It’s going to be great, as long as I can keep the other godfather – Clint – from corrupting him or her. We’re talking about getting a house where we can all live together to make it easier to help Nat and Maria out whenever they need it.”

“You and your friends have a weird thing, don’t you?”

“According to some standards, I guess.”

“So are Clint and this Bucky guy dating? Do you have a perfect little gay circle around you, just waiting for you to find a boyfriend so you can complete it?”

“Tony.”

“Sorry.” The man didn’t sound it, but Steve supposed it was the best he was going to get.

“They aren’t dating, no. I think they might have slept together a couple of times, but I don’t… I don’t like to pry into things like that. None of my business. Bucky isn’t really… a relationship isn’t what he’s looking for right now, and Clint is more about having fun than settling down. I think they’ve decided it’s best if they… keep their hands to themselves. Being friends is more important than, uh, that kind of pleasure.”

“Hm. You haven’t told me about Bucky.” From the sound of Tony’s voice, he was walking, and Steve heard him give a happy grunt a few moments later, like maybe he’d plopped down on some comfortable surface. He contemplated getting up off the floor to do the same, but that seemed like a lot of effort for too little payoff. 

“Bucky is… he’s my best friend. He always has been. Lived just down the street when we were growing up, and we always did just about everything together. Except art class – he said he’d leave that to me. He was always saving me when we were little; I used to get beat up a lot.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like bullies. I would try to stop them, but when you’re a scrawny little thing who can’t really throw a decent punch to save your life…”

“You get beat up a lot.” Tony finished, and Steve imagined that they were nodding in synch.

“Yeah. I filled out in high school though, and being in the Army did a lot for my ability to fight back. Bullies aren’t as eager to pick a fight with me these days. We did that together too – the Army, I mean. We were too broke for college, and it seemed like the best idea, you know? Enlist, do a tour, then get out and start our lives.” For just a second, when he closed his eyes, Steve could hear the echoing of gunshots, smell the heat and fear and oil, feel the sand under his fingers… and then he opened them to stare at the wall, and the ghosts were gone. “I was hoping we’d get assigned to the same unit, but you don’t exactly get to decide where you go. He was a sniper, and a damn good one – they weren’t going to waste him on everyday shit.” Language, language – he was slipping, falling back into that mindset, and he needed to straighten himself out. “He lost an arm over there. For a while it didn’t look like he’d even-”

Feeling his eyes tear and his throat start to close up, Steve came to a stop. Remembering those days was just like being trapped in that fucking nightmare all over again. Separated, knowing his best friend was dying in some shitty little hospital and unable to go to him… it was like torture.

“I’m sorry he had to go through that.” Tony’s voice was softer and more sincere than he’d heard it yet, and it brought him back to the moment. What the hell was he even doing? Tony wasn’t his friend or his fucking counselor – he didn’t need to put his shit on some stranger.

“Yeah, well. He’s better now.” Steve answered lamely, shrugging again. “Has a prosthesis and everything.” A crappy one, but better than nothing. “Anyway. He came home before me, and started going to therapy groups. When I got back on US soil he got me to go too – that’s where we met Nat and Maria. Clint came with Nat – he’s a part of her package, I guess. We all just… fit. It works for us to be together. We belong.”

“… that… that sounds really nice.” Now the man sounded lost and yearning, and Steve found himself aching for the other. Which was stupid and kind of insane, and totally and completely like him.

“It is, but I’m sure you’ve got something like that. Tell me about where you belong.”

“Steve. It’s four-oh-two in the morning-”

“I thought we weren’t dwelling on the time?”

“Rules never apply to me. Stop with the sass and let me talk, okay Stevie-kins? Anyway. It’s four-oh-three in the morning, and I’m listening to some guy I’ve never met talk. You could talk about anything and I’d listen, because I haven’t slept for more than twenty minutes at a time in almost five days and Pep will start really worrying soon, and she made me promise to stop drinking – took all my booze, the traitor, and JARVIS _let_ her because he’s a double-traitor – and I really, really need a drink or sleep and I can’t have either so I need a distraction.” The manic ramble was back, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, how to get Tony back in that peaceful, soft place he’d been in before. “When I get like this I dial random numbers to just listen to someone, anyone, say _something_ because maybe it’ll distract me enough that I’ll be able to fucking sleep. I don’t have anyone I can call except for strangers. Do you really think it sounds like I belong anywhere?”

For long moments, Steve was silent, digesting everything that had just been thrown at him in a pile of word vomit. What he discovered under the sarcasm was mildly alarming, and he found himself worrying for this strange stranger. Sleep was so important, and if the man wasn’t sleeping, who knew what else he was neglecting? Was he eating and getting enough water? What about bathing? What was he doing with his time, and dear God it sounded like he might be an alcoholic, and he _didn’t have anyone that he felt like he could call to talk_.

“Put my name in your phone.” Shoot, there was his ‘command voice’, the one he’d used on getting promoted to Sergeant – most people hated when he slipped into it now that he was back in the real world. The protracted silence that was loud as an explosion coming from the other end of the call told him that Tony probably didn’t like it much. Focusing on that, he gentled his voice considerably and tried again. “Put my name in your phone, Tony. Call me when you need sleep or a drink and can’t have either, okay? Or when you just want to talk. After we hang up, check the number you dialed and put it in your phone under Steve Rogers.”

“… you know, people tell me that I’m odd and unpredictable and even throw in the word ‘unbalanced’ on occasion, but I think you might be stranger than me. You don’t have the slightest idea who I am, and you want me to keep calling you? That reeks of instability. Maybe you should be the one to call me, as you’re obviously the more troubled soul here.”

“Maybe. I’ll put your number in my phone too. We can be unbalanced and unstable together.”

“I can _hear_ it when you smile. You just smiled even wider, didn’t you? Fuck. Fine. I’ll put your name in my phone. This is the weirdest fucking conversation I’ve ever had.”

“There is no way that’s true.”

“Maybe not, but it’s close. Anyway, I’m not promising to call, because I might not. I’m kind of a fuck-up, and promises are easy to break. So yeah. Don’t expect me to call, Rogers. And even if I do, I’ll mess it up. I always do. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. No, it’s not. Don’t put my number in your phone, and I’m gonna lose yours after I hang up. I think maybe we should do that now. Yeah. That’d be better. Thanks for talking to me Ste-”

“Don’t!” The desperation in his voice surprised Steve, so he was sure it shocked the hell out of Tony. “Don’t hang up, and don’t lose my number. You’re not going to mess this up – there isn’t anything _to_ mess up, not really. So don’t hang up. Unless it’s to get some sleep. Has it really been five days?”

“I… it… um… yes?” The man sounded absolutely bewildered, like Steve had just completely altered his world and Tony was scrambling to adjust.

“That’s not healthy.”

“… no, but I had to do some work.”

“Is your work done?”

“Yeah? I mean… uh… I think. For now. I’m running simula- … I’m in a phase where I don’t have to hover. There isn’t anything else I can really do just now.”

“Then why can’t you sleep?”

“Send me nudes and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not sending you nudes.”

“Are you blushing? I bet you’re blushing. Anyone who says ‘woo’ and says he donated his ‘stuff’ must be a blusher. How far down does it go?”

“Tony.”

“Ooh, that far?”

“You’re trying to distract me. Why can’t you sleep?”

“Okay, fine, no nudes. How about phone sex? You up for some phone sex? I know I am, or I can be in just a couple seconds. What are you wearing?”

“Tony. Why can’t you sleep?”

“Because I want a fucking drink so bad it hurts!” Tony answered in a snarl, and Steve heard the distinct sound of something crashing to the floor. It caused him to jerk upright, eyes wide as he fought the urge to _run_ and get to Tony – he had no idea where Tony was, who he was. He had no way to protect him. “I want a drink – fuck, I’d kill for a drink – and I can’t have one. I’m trying to show her that I can be better. I can fucking be better, dammit. Pep is Pep, and she thinks I have a problem. So does Brucie-bear, and maybe they’re fucking right, but God I just want a drink. And they’re both _mine_ and I can’t call them because they’re off in some other fucking country having fun together, and I hate that. I hate that they aren’t here and that they belong to each other and that I’m never going to have her again. Bruce is good – he’s fucking amazing, and if he swung both ways we could all be good together. But he doesn’t, and she likes him, and I should be happy for them, but _I’m not_ and I can’t drink it away.”

“Tony.”

“I can’t drink it away because she asked me not to drink, and part of me thinks that maybe if I can just not drink, she’ll see that I can be better. I can be good for her. I can be more than a fuck-up. So I can’t drink. But I can’t work any more because I can’t see straight and my fingers are a little shaky and soon JARVIS will lock me out of everything until I get sleep and some food.” Well, that answered the question of whether or not the man was eating. “So I can’t drink and I can’t work, and I can’t sleep because my mind won’t shut up, and **FUCK** I’m a mess.”

The rant had started angry and only gotten more intense… but those last three words were barely a whisper.

“So fucking useless. Do you ever wonder what the point of all this is, Steve? Why the fuck do we even stick around?”

“Tony, where are you?” Steve did his best to keep his voice calm and even, but he could detect the smallest tremor of fear. Would Tony hear it? Would that be better or worse? Energy, frustrated by distance and ignorance, began to build, and Steve jumped to his feet and began to pace. Tony sounded tired and defeated; he sounded like he was ready to give up. “Are you alone?”

“Sort of. JARVIS is here.” He did not miss the pointed lack of location information, and didn’t quite understand the strange emphasis Tony kept putting on the name.

“Is Jarvis a friend?”

“He’s… it’s complicated.”

“Tony, do you need someone to come over?”

“Why would I need that?”

“Is there someone I can call? Or I could… damn. I don’t know where you are. I’m in New York City… are you too? Or close? If you are I could come over. I mean, I could maybe even get enough money together for a plane ticket, if I had to, but you’d have to wait, and-”

“Woah! Hold on just a second. Time out. Why are you…? Jesus, Steve, I’m not going to kill myself. Fuck.”

“Well it sounds like you’re not far from considering it!” He answered hotly, blushing and a bit offended that Tony seemed amused by his concern.

“Why do you care, anyway?”

“I… what?”

“We don’t know each other. Sure, we’ve been talking for over an hour, but you don’t know me. Why the fuck would you care if I did kill myself?”

“Because I’m a decent human being?” It was more than that though, and he knew it. His friends made fun of him for it, and his superiors had always called it a character flaw, and maybe it was. But Steve wanted to save people; Steve _needed_ to save people. Usually he could focus the urge into positive channels, especially when he had people that were ‘his’. He took care of his own and made sure they were safe and happy, because otherwise the tension and anxiety inside would build to unbearable levels. If his people were okay, he could be okay, and keep his ‘rescues’ to a minimum outside the group.

At some point during this strange, unexpected phone call, Tony had become his.

Now he needed to know that Tony was safe.

“Look, I care. Even if you don’t believe me, even if it sounds insane, I care. I don’t want you to be dead, Tony. Not because you hurt yourself, and not because you won’t sleep or eat. So if you could not be dead, I’d really, really appreciate it. Do you need me to come over?”

“… you really would, wouldn’t you? You’d drop your life and come find me to make sure I don’t hurt myself. Even if I was in fucking China, you would come and make sure I don’t end up dead through self-neglect.”

“Yeah.”

“… You are totally way more troubled than me.” There was a strange note in Tony’s voice, something like awe combined with shock and disbelief. Was having someone care really that different for him? Maybe it was just the odd circumstances surrounding the caring.

“Maybe.”

“Absolutely. I’m not going to be dead, alright? I promise.”

“When did you eat last?”

“Uhm… I think JARVIS made me have an energy bar a few hours ago. Maybe? Maybe that was yesterday. Are you glaring? I feel like you’re glaring. And did you just _growl_ at me?”

“No.” Steve definitely had. “You have no idea when you last had real, actual food do you?”

“I feel like ‘no’ is not the answer you want to hear.”

“I just want the truth. I’m not going to yell at you. Just… can you cook?”

“Sort of. I can make eggs.”

“Go make some eggs.”

“I don’t want eggs.”

“You need to eat.”

“Why don’t you cook me something?” There was a whining, pouting quality to his voice that made Steve smile even as he battled back the urge to shake some sense into the crazy man.

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come over and do that.” He countered, grinning when Tony gave an irritated groan.

“You’re going to do that all the time, I can tell already. I don’t need you to come cook for me. Jesus.” It sounded like he was moving again, and Steve hoped he was headed to the kitchen. “I think I have something I can toss in the microwave.”

“Good. While it’s cooking, you should heat some milk up on the stove.”

“… come again?”

“Milk. On the stove in a pot. Get it warm and then drink it. My mom used to make me warm milk when I couldn’t sleep. It helps. I still use it when I have nightmares. Puts me right back to sleep.”

“I doubt it will help, but I can try it, I guess. Sounds gross though.”

“It isn’t too bad. Thanks for trying. When I suggested it to Clint he acted like I was completely insane.”

“I already know you are. Warm milk is the least insane thing about all of this, really.”

If someone had told Steve the day before that he’d ever be comfortable sitting on the phone in silence, he would have laughed at them. It was easy to be quiet just then, however, because he could hear Tony breathing and it let him know the man wasn’t dead, wasn’t drinking. Dimly, he heard a fridge open and listened as the man rummaged through it; he could hear the beeping of numbers on a microwave the rattling of pots as Tony got what he needed to heat up his milk. It was soothing somehow, and without really thinking about it, Steve found himself synching his breathing to Tony’s, until it felt like they were sharing a pair of lungs.

It was weirdly intense, but it felt… right. Something was clicking for him internally, the same way it had when he’d first met Bucky. It was the same feeling he’d got when introduced to Nat, Maria and Clint; it was the same sense he’d gotten in his gut when the two women had asked him if he’d be the male donor so they could start a family. Tony was right – Tony _belonged_.

There was a measure of relief to be found in listening to him eat, and Steve felt one of the knots of tension in his chest relax. They talked a little more while Tony devoured his food, and when he went for seconds, a little more anxiety drained away. Tony wouldn’t say much about himself, and Steve didn’t push, happy instead to playfully debate over the best baseball team and the best Disney movie.

“Okay. I was right. This is gross.”

“Did you let it get cold after you heated it up?”

“… no. Maybe. I’ll throw it in the mic, because I am not fucking around with the stove again.”

“It doesn’t come out the same.”

“Steve? I don’t think it’s going to make that much difference. It’s warm milk. Milk is supposed to be cold, and you’re telling me to heat it up. This is dubious at best.”

“Just heat it up and drink it.” Steve scolded lightly, smiling as he padded out of the bedroom to his own kitchen. Five o’clock had come and gone, which meant he wouldn’t be able to get a run in, but this felt more important… and he could fix a bigger, better breakfast than cereal while he talked to Tony. A good if unexpected start to the day.

“Yeah, still gross.” The man told him a couple moments later, and Steve was sure he was making a face. “Fuck. This really helps?”

“Helps me. Maybe it won’t work for you. Drink the whole glass to be sure.”

“Yes _mother_.”

“Don’t you back-talk me, young man, or you’ll be grounded for a week.”

Steve liked making Tony laugh; it was such a nice sound. Unguarded and a bit breathy, like the urge had caught him by surprise and he didn’t quite know what to do about it. 

“Fine, fine. I’m drinking it. Drinking it and heading to bed. I’m… I’m more tired, now that my stomach isn’t trying to devour itself. My hands aren’t shaking anymore either.”

“ _Tony_.” Steve knew he sounded agonized, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Fuck. Sorry. Sorry. I’m okay Steve, really. I promise. For now. After sleep I’ll be even better.”

“I know. Sorry for nagging. I just… I care and I want you to be alright.”

“I am. And I think you should send me a nude when we hang up as a reward for my good behavior.”

“… fine.” Steve couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed his face when he heard Tony choke on his drink.

“I… you don’t… really?”

“Really. Once you’re in bed and we hang up, I’ll send you one.”

“A nude.”

“That’s what I said.”

“That means no clothes.”

“Golly, really? I had no idea, mister!”

“Fuck, don’t talk like that. It makes me want to do terrible things to you, and I don’t even know you. You’re… really going to send one?”

“Yes.” 

“This seems like a great time to tell you that I have arrived in my bedroom. So yeah. Going to bed. Great talking to you, I promise I won’t be dead any time soon and that I’ll finish this disgusting concoction you suggested and then get some sleep. Send me my nude please!”

Now it was Steve laughing, taken in by the chipper, nearly smug tone in the man’s voice. “Hang on, we still have to say goodnight. Or good morning, really, at least where I am. Are you going to be able to sleep for at least a few hours?”

“Yeah. Schedule is clear for the next couple days. Pep makes sure I don’t work in public when I might embarrass her. … she’s less terrible than I make her sound, I swear. Anyway. I’ll sleep as long as I can.”

“Good. Eat again when you get up, alright?”

“I will.”

“And call me, Tony. I mean it – any time, for whatever you need. Call me.”

“I will.” He agreed, voice subdued again. “Call me, Steve. If you want. If you need something. You can call me too.”

“Alright. Now go to bed. Night Tony. Sweet dreams.”

“Night Stevie-kins. … thanks. I’m happy yours was the random number I dialed.”

Steve didn’t have a chance to answer before Tony hung up, and he could feel warmth spreading through his chest. This was so weird, and he was crazy, and he was pleased as punch that Tony was safe, and that he’d eaten and gone to bed. Never one to break a promise without extreme extenuating circumstances, the man fiddled with his phone, going into camera mode. It took him a minute, because phones were not his thing, and before he could snap his intended picture, he felt the buzz of an arriving text message. He rolled his eyes, then arranged the shot; once he’d taken it, he went into his messages. As he’d thought, the newest was from Tony. Grinning, he answered and sent the picture along before going back to making his breakfast – today was going to be a good day.

~.~.~

_Steve, I can’t go to sleep without my promised nude. You’re depriving me of sleep. Now it’s your fault._

**calm down.here**

_Steve. That is a picture of your foot._

**my naked foot ur welcome**

_Fucking tease._

**kep eating and sleeping maybe next time ull get an ankle**

_I’m going to sleep because that actually sounded sexy. I’m clearly delusional._

**haha night Tony call me later**

_I will. I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep is for the dead and the weak, and since Tony is neither, Steve ends up talking to him during work, even if the idiot only went to bed less than four hours before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! People are reading it! 
> 
> Comments are everything, so feel free to drop some on me! <3

_Steve._  
9:36 AM

_Steve._  
9:37 AM

_Stevie-kins!_  
9:38 AM

_Steve. Steve. Steve._

_Steve._

_Steve._  
9:40 AM

_If you don’t answer me, I’ll release your nude to the public for their consumption._

_Well, no, I wouldn’t. Not ever. But are you ignoring me?_

_Steve? Are you mad?_  
9:41 AM

_Steve?_

_I’m sorry._  
9:42 AM

_Steve? Did I mess it up already?_  
9:50 AM

**didnt mess it up @ work**  
9:53 AM

_Steve?_  
9:53 AM

**wait 1 min**  
9:53 AM

_Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you._  
9:54 AM

**no apologies no bothered 1 min**  
9:54 AM

_I’ll apologize if I want._  
9:54 AM

_Steeeeeeve. You said one minute._  
9:58 AM

**1 its an expression 2 yru up 3 sorry i didn’t reply right away**  
10:00 AM

**boss hates phones but if u ever call during work ill answer b/c call r always for important stuff**

**its how we keep Clint from getting us fired on acident**

**txt means it can wait**

**call means ‘i need u’**

**on 15 min break now**  
10:01 AM

**Tony?**  
10:02 AM

_Sorry! DUM-E got excited by the fire extinguisher again. Had to deal with that._  
10:04 AM

**DUM-E?**  
10:04 AM

_Yeah. He, uh, likes fire extinguishers. He’s… it’s complicated._  
10:05 AM

**like jarvis**  
10:05 AM

_Yeah. Like JARVIS. Anyway, sorry for flooding you with messages. Pep says I get too excited and it ‘overwhelms’ people. Are you overwhelmed, Steve?_  
10:05 AM

**no? got 20 txts from Clint in same time**  
10:05 AM

**dont worry i dont scare easy can i call?**  
10:06 AM

_Um. Yes? If you want?_  
10:06 AM

Steve was made far too happy when there was only one ring before Tony picked up. The flustered quality to the other man’s voice was almost as good. “Ah… hello? Hi Steve. Good morning, I guess?” 

“Hey. I only have a couple minutes, but I prefer talking to texting, if that’s not a problem for you.” 

“No. Nope. Not at all a problem. No problems here.” 

“Great. Now why are you awake? You only went to bed about four hours ago. You need more sleep, Tony.” 

“Nagging already, Rogers?” Grinning, Steve tucked the fingers of his free hand into the apron tied around his waist, leaning back against the breakroom wall. It was a tiny space, crowded with furniture the small staff insisted was necessary for their continued good will – a fridge for lunches and snacks, a small table to eat them at with four chairs, a loveseat and, the most recent addition, a vending machine with a severe attitude problem. Currently, one of his coworkers was kicking said monstrosity, cursing under her breath as she tried to get it to deliver the candy bar she’d paid for. 

“Of course. I love to nag. I live to nag. Lizzy, stop that, you’re gonna get crushed,” he called, smile growing as he heard Tony start to complain about Steve ignoring him. “Here, I got a dollar to spare. Just get another one.” After digging in his pocket for a moment, he found a slightly crinkled one, waving it in the air. As Lizzy stomped over to snag it from his fingers, he turned his attention back to the still-squawking Tony. “Sorry, couldn’t pass up a nag-ortunity.” Laughter escaped when Tony gave a disgusted noise at the terrible pun – he caught a ‘really?’ look from Lizzy as well. “Sorry, sorry. Why are you awake? You gotta still be tired.” 

“Sleep is for the weak and the dead, Stevie-kins. I don’t have time for it. Plus I was really, really hungry. Woke up and made eggs.” 

“Oh good. I was worried that maybe you’d just gone back to work.” 

In the pregnant pause that followed, Steve smothered another round of laughter. He could hear those same sounds that had been there earlier in the morning; they could only be described as the sound of tinkering. Tony had _definitely_ gone back to work. 

“Okay, well. After eggs, JARVIS told me that one of the simulations had finished, so I took a look at that. Then I had to, you know, tweak som- No. You know what? I am a grown-ass man. I can work if I want!” The guilt that had been in Tony’s voice switched to irritation, and Steve shook his head, feeling another smile stretch over his lips. “I don’t have to justify it to you, or Pep or anyone.” 

“Of course not.” 

“If I want to spend all my time in the workshop, that’s my right as an adult.” 

“No arguments here.” 

“And I know how to feed myself.” 

“With eggs. I know and am very proud.” 

“Thank you! Pep and Rhodey and Brucie-bear are always forgetting that I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” 

“Right. And I’m sure you’re very good at it. They have no reason to worry about you.” 

“Exactly! … Wait, you’re being tricky, aren’t you?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tony. I’m just agreeing with you.” 

“No. No no no. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re agreeing with me to make me feel guilty about, uh… _things_.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Tony. That would be rude.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And I’m definitely not judging your attempts at being a responsible adult.” 

“The kids call it ‘adulting’, you know. I’m a pro at it.” 

“… thank you for the slang lesson? And how is staying up for five days being a pro at adulting?” 

“I took naps!” 

Again, Steve thought it was really a shame that they couldn’t see each other. Wasting his ‘Steve is Very Disappointed’ expression on the floor was nearly criminal. Though Lizzy DID glance over and, after a double take, started a new pot of coffee since she’d just finished the last drop of the old pot. A victory, but not really the one he was after at the moment. 

“Naps are not really a sufficient substitute for real sleep, you know.” 

“Jesus fuck, Steve, I know. I know, alright? But this is a really cool project and it’s going to be awesome. I mean game-changing, world-bettering, money-making amazing, and I do my best work when I’m-”

“Half-dead?” 

“No, sassy-britches. I do my best work when I’m, just… uh. Caffeinated! Caffeinated and running on fumes. The shit I come up with then is just fucking golden. So the three hours I got last night – this morning, whatever, shut-up – is more than good. My hands are steady and my mind is racing and fuck this is gonna be beautiful, isn’t it J?” 

Dimly, Steve heard another voice, also male, chime in. He couldn’t make out the words, but Tony seemed less than impressed with the response. “Rude. So rude. I ought rewrite your… uh. I should fire you and rewrite your resume. No more cushy jobs for you!” 

One golden brow arched, Steve wondered what his phone-friend was trying to hide, because he was definitely trying to hide _something. But if he pushed, he had a feeling the man might disappear._

“That’s not very nice Tony. I’d give you a lecture about teamwork and playing well with others, but I’ve gotta get back to work soon. I’m supposed to be doing a demonstration later this afternoon, but the boss’ll take it away if he thinks I’m slacking.” 

“Demonstration? Demonstrating what? Steve. Stevie-kins. My darling. Please, please tell me you work at a school for pole dancers and you’ll be demonstrating techniques. Please have someone video the lesson and then send it to me. I need more than your foot to sustain me, babe.” 

“My foot is beautiful, Tony. It should be more than enough.” The blush that had started while Tony was talking only grew worse when he caught Lizzy staring at him. The heat grew and spread, until he just _knew_ his ears and the back of his neck were glowing pink. 

“Your foot is fucking gorgeous, but I need more, Stevie-kins.” 

“Well it’s all you’re getting, and I don’t work at a pole dancing school! That’s… that’s not even a thing. Is it? No, don’t tell me. I don’t trust you.” Warmth spread through his chest when he heard Tony start to cackle, and he found himself smiling and shaking his head. “I work at a little arts and crafts store. Well, not that little – it’s pretty nice, really. It’s better than working at a chain, that’s for sure.” 

“Mm. And the growth of the hipster population has probably done wonders for Mom-and-Pop shops like that.” 

“I guess? I don’t… I don’t really like to think of our customers as hipsters-”

“They’re totally hipsters.” Tony _and_ Lizzy chimed in helpfully. Lizzy got another ‘Steve is Very Disappointed’ look, and she ducked her head in response, wiping down the mess she’d made of the counter while loading her coffee with sugar and cream. 

“Anyway,” he continued firmly, rolling his eyes and ignoring the way Tony chuckled. “They’re nice kids, most of them. Real eager. So sometimes we get to do demonstrations with the product or teach classes. It’s my favorite part of working here. I get to test out the new paints and stuff, play with them at home so I can show them off. Today I’m working with gelatos – you can do some really fun things with them that you can’t do with paints or pastels. Even if they are usually used for scrapbooking or card making, I still really like them. I might even splurge and get one of the bigger sets for myself.” 

“Steve Rogers, you are a geek for art, aren’t you?” 

“Uhm… I guess? I went to art school and all, and I do commissions when I can. Why?” 

“You just got so enthusiastic, babbling about your little ice cream paint things.” 

“Tony, the gelatos I’m talking about have nothing to do with ice cream.” 

“Whatever. The point is that it was fucking adorable, and you’re a nerd and I love it. Have someone record the lesson and send it to me. It’ll be even better than a nude. I can use it to-”

“Oh my god, I am not recording the lesson so you can jerk off to it!” Outrage and embarrassment and just a little, tiny hint of arousal not even really worth mentioning shot through him, and he knew his entire face was bright red. Lizzy whipped around to stare at him again, then began to laugh so hard she fell over, on her back and kicking her legs into the air as she whooped with mirth. It was a nice counterpoint to Tony’s laughter, and Steve’s cheeks grew even warmer, blush spreading further and further as the low, throaty sound continued right next to his ear. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Tony finally managed after long moments, voice still shaking with amusement. “I was going to say I could use it to see if they’d be a good gift for Brucie-bear. He likes to scrapbook – says it’s all zen and soothing and shit – and his birthday is coming up.” 

“I… oh.” 

“I mean, if you’re hot I might also deposit it in the spank bank, since I have your permission.” 

“You do not have my permission!” Steve shouted back, making Lizzy devolve into another round of laughter – he was pretty sure his coworker was crying, and he was SO embarrassed, and this was just unacceptable! “I’m not recording anything, Tony. And they’d be a great gift for your friend. I’ll send you a link where you can buy some, okay? But I’m not recording the demo.” 

“Traitor.” 

“You only say that because you like me.” 

“Whatever. Go to work, Stevie-kins. I don’t want you to be late, not when you seem so excited about giving your little… demonstration.” The emphasis on the last word made Steve shiver, and he began to scold his body for reacting to this shameless man that he didn’t even know. “So yeah. Say goodbye and go back to work so I can do the same. You have hipsters to sell to, and I have genius to create.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fuck, are you pouting? Because you totally just huffed at me, and I think you might be pouting. Can I have a picture?” 

“No.” Steve answered, his definite not-pout turning into a smile. “If you need anything, call me, okay? I _always_ answer calls. Text as much as you want and I’ll answer when I can until I get out of work at five. Try to get some more sleep please? And maybe take a break for lunch?” 

“Uh… don’t know about the sleep thing. Lunch is also-”

“Tony. Please?” 

“Uh… I… fuck. Fine. J baby? Remind me when it’s lunch time, and that Steve said I had to eat it.” Again that other voice, and Steve only resisted asking about it because Lizzy –finally off the floor and done laughing – was tapping one finger against her wristwatch – they had to get going. 

“Thank you, Tony.” He murmured instead, infusing his voice with warmth. “I like knowing that you’re at least sort of taking care of yourself. Call me later, if you want.” 

“Alright? I mean. Sure. Maybe. Depending on how much I get done. Lunch may cost you a phone call, cupcake.” 

“I’d rather you eat, so long as you promise you’ll call if you _need_ to.” 

“Oh. I. Right. Of course. Now go back to work! You are depriving the world of my wonderfully intelligent brain!” 

“Right. Bye Tony. Talk to you later.” 

“Yeah. Uh, later. Have fun with your demonstration. Bye.” Again the man sounded completely bewildered, racing through the last few sentences and hanging up before Steve could answer. Grinning and shaking his head, Steve made sure the screen of his phone was dark, then tucked it into his apron pocket again. It had been… nice to talk to Tony again, to hear his voice and know that he was okay. 

Even if he really should have still been in bed. 

He fell into step beside Lizzy, draping a friendly arm over her shoulder when she grinned up at him. “So your boyfriend wants to jerk off to your art demos, huh?” she asked, eyes twinkling with amusement. The look only grew more pronounced when he blushed and began to stammer an answer – Tony wasn’t his boyfriend and he’d misunderstood, and, and – which let him know that this wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Indeed, she’d probably tell everyone else the story, and he was going to be teased about it and the pink it brought to his cheeks for _days_.

Worth it, he decided, remembering the way Tony sounded when he laughed. Definitely, totally and absolutely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I love flustered Steve. Like, a lot. It's my favorite thing, besides snarky/sassy Steve. He's probably gonna be both a lot in this fic.
> 
> Formatting things is a pain in the ass.
> 
> Again, I love comments! So if you have any questions, critiques or what have you, I would love to hear them! Also if you notice any mistakes, 'cause I don't have a beta.
> 
> I has a Tumblr. [It's lame but it's here.](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/) Come visit and stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's conversation with Tony makes him realize just how boring his work can be, while a sleepover with one of his friends reminds him why sometimes he _prefers_ boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so happy to get comments and kudos for this silly little story! Thank you so much! <3
> 
> I intend to start adding more of a focus on Steve's other friendships, and how Tony begins to weave himself into his life. If that seems like a terrible idea (or a good one!) let me know! Comment or yell at me on Tumblr - I'm totes happy with either.
> 
> How you enjoy!

Part of Steve had been sure that Tony would continue to text him throughout the rest of the day. He seemed the type, after all, with some of the same twitchy, anxious energy that sometimes plagued Clint. Steve certainly felt a lot of buzzing against his hip in the two hours before he had his lunch break, but that was normal. In his closest relationships boundaries were things that happened to other people, after all. Texts were _always_ coming. They were a constant, a quick and easy point of connection. The frequent hum of their arrival combined with a lack of phone calls during the same period let Steve know that everyone he loved was alright. They were safe and alive, and if they weren’t always happy, well… at least they _were_ still with him.

It would be nice if he could fold Tony into that same little universe. One where he always had someone to talk to, and where he wouldn’t have to worry about being overwhelming.

To his surprise, when he checked at lunch he had nothing from his newest friend. There’d been a barrage from Clint – of course – and he spent most of that break reading through them, laughing out loud quite a bit. Even as he did, however, he was picking through them for coded messages, picking through all the information to figure out what Clint was really trying to say. After reading the last message, he smiled and shook his head as he tapped out one message to send in return:

**come over after work ill feed u and u can spend the night my couch misses u**  
12:22 PM

Even if he was deliriously happy that Nat had found a romantic partner to share her life with, it was still a huge adjustment for Clint to have her gone. He got lonely without a roommate, but had refused to let anyone fill the vacancy. He’d turned down offers from Steve and Bucky to move him in with either of them just as adamantly. When the empty apartment got to be too much though, he wasn’t opposed to a sleepover. Steve was always happy to invite him over whenever he noticed the signs. Before he could even switch to another thread of messages, Clint had agreed and was demanding ‘homemade everything’ for dinner.

Steve grinned, taking a second to grab a couple bites of his lunch; as he did, he caught the eye of Dave and Sophie, who had lunch at the same time. They were watching him with bemused expressions, knowing very well why Steve almost never got to finish his food before they returned to work. As Clint continued to text to his heart’s content, he went to the single message he had from Nat. It was a picture, on that had him laughing once more. In the background was a _very_ pregnant Maria, who was on doctor ordered bedrest until the baby finally made his or her appearance.

At least, she was supposed to be resting… but the tray on her lap didn’t hold one of the meals Nat painstakingly put together, or a book, or a crossword puzzle. No, its surface was littered with important looking papers, and there were several more piles scattered on the large bed the women shared. She was clutching a pen in her right hand so hard that her knuckles were white, and lines of stress were etched around her mouth and eyes. He’d be willing to bet their source was whoever she was speaking to on the cell phone held to her ear. In the foreground was Nat’s face, her expression saved from being completely placid only by a single, arched red brow.

He could see through the mask of equanimity though, and could read the layers beneath. There was fond exasperation and amusement, warmth and irritation. Harder to see was a tiny spark of fear that lingered as a result of the life she had lived, fear that whispered in her ear that she could lose everything she had so easily. Underneath it all was love, the kind that could move mountains and never really died. He knew that after snapping the picture, the redhead would have gathered all the piles into one neat stack, let Maria finish her call, and then she’d have coaxed her wife into a far more relaxing activity. He _also_ knew what was expected of him, and he fumbled his way to the camera mode of his phone. Putting on a pout and making his best puppy-dog eyes, he snapped a picture of himself and sent it to Maria, along with a caption.

**rest!! it makes me sad to think u and my godbaby r tired**  
12:24 PM

“C’mon Rogers. We only have a little while longer. Eat your lunch so I don’t have to listen to your goddamn stomach all afternoon.”

“Aw, Dave… I didn’t know you cared.” Steve teased back, grinning at his coworker. The man rolled his eyes in return, going back to bickering with Sophie about the merits – or lack thereof – of black and white photography. Working on autopilot, Steve started to shovel forkfuls of his leftover chicken alfredo into his mouth; the warmth from the microwave had largely vanished, but that didn’t bother him much. He’d certainly eaten much worse. Most of his attention was focused back on his phone, thumbing through Clint’s latest texts and shooting off responses even more riddled with errors than usual – it was so much harder with only one thumb to use! Maria’s photo of herself rolling her eyes (tucked in bed with Nat’s head pillowed on her shoulder) earns her a smiley face.

Bucky’s text, in which he was bitching about a guy from his group named Sam - _again_ \- got him only a frowny face of doom. There was definitely a lecture in his future. From the string of profanity that followed, the man was well aware of that, and very much not looking forward to it.

As he started to pack up, eager to get back to work if only for the demonstration he would give in an hour, it finally came. A message from Tony where he’d expected several, and he stopped everything to check it – he wanted to make sure the man understood that he really did welcome texts and phone calls. It was another picture, and in the moment before it loaded, Steve found himself blushing and hoping it wouldn’t be too inappropriate – the man could be so forward, so who knew what would send? When the picture cleared, however, all he could do was stare, because he had no clue what in the hell he was looking at. Was it a pile of… foam? Covering a desk? What the hell? About to ask, he was stopped when another message popped up.

_Lunch attempt number one has ended in failure. DUM-E heard me say my food was hot and decided to prevent it from bursing into flames. He’s officially lost all fire extinguisher privileges for the foreseeable future. ___

_Steve, I’m hungry. Fix it._  
12:40 PM

Steve burst into laughter, making his coworkers stare at him as if he was insane. Whoever – whatever – this DUM-E was, he sure seemed to have a hair trigger when it came to that extinguisher. Part of him wondered why Tony put up with it, but thinking of the nonsense he and his friends got up to, and he thought he might understand it perfectly. He only had a few minutes, and he really should spend them washing his fork and getting his lunchbox neatly packed again, but… well. He didn’t want to. This was more fun.

**cant fix it dont know where u r**

**attempt 2 will b better**

**try try again**  
12:41 PM

_You’re mean. You’re a mean, mean man Stevie-kins. You made me stop for lunch, which is the only reason I’m hungry. Now you won’t help me in my hour of need. I am wasting away. How can I cook when I’m starving?_  
12:41 PM

**u dont need eggs again anyway**  
12:41 PM

_Steve. Steve. You’re horrible to me, and you greatly underestimate my skill. I can cook more than eggs!_

_There is a whole range of toaster pastries that you are ignoring, and I can cook those perfectly. So there._  
12:41 PM

**good for u?**

**those r terrible dont eat them**

**order out**

**would b healthier**  
12:42 PM/sub>

_Did you just malign the delicious, delightful breakfast of choice for children? Steve Steve Steve. Stevie-kins. My adorable, precious cinnamon roll. Toaster pastries are the backbone of this country. Their sugary, flaky goodness is undeniable, and you’re going to hell for opposing them._

_On the other hand, Chinese takeout does sound amazing._

_Damn you for confusing me._  
12:42 PM

**ur fine**  
12:42 PM

**go make the call and eat**

**g2g back to work**

**tell me what u end up getting**

**get an xtra fortune cookie for me and send me the fortune**  
12:43 PM

_So fucking demanding. Jesus. Fine. I demand a picture in return though. Now get back to work. Can’t have you losing out on that demonstration because of me. Hope that goes well for you, honey-toast. Enjoy._  
12:43 PM

**honey-toast?**  
12:43 PM

_Just roll with it, sugar britches. Now go away. Shoo. Work, be productive, whatever normal people do during their boring little days._

_I get one more text from you before the end of the working day, mister, and I’ll call in to your place of work and report the lazy employee that’s bothering me._  
12:44 PM

Steve wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or roll his eyes, so he did both as he hurriedly shoved the rest of his Tupperware into his lunch pail. Tony was certainly a character, and he hoped the man really would order something to eat instead of just going back to work hungry.

Bucky might not be the only one headed for a scolding.

~.~.~

The rest of his day at work was fairly routine, though he had to fight a little harder than he usually did to keep from checking his text messages. It was especially difficult when, after his demonstration, he pulled out his phone to snap a picture – surely one quick glance wouldn’t hurt anything. He could just peek without his boss noticing… except the man looked over at him with an arched brow and a scowl when he heard the ‘click’ of Steve’s camera. Feeling a bit sheepish, he tucked the phone away and kept his head down as he cleaned up all his supplies.

The last hour he was there dragged even more than usual – he was looking forward to having Clint over, and he really wanted to see if Tony had sent along a fortune. He also wanted to sit down and veg a little, with a beer in one hand as he watched TV. Maybe in his underwear… he and Clint were champions when it came to binging TV in nothing but boxers. As he snagged his coat off the rack, Steve began a message to the man, ignoring everything he’d sent since he’d last looked. Moments after he’d sent it, his friend replied, and Steve let out a groan – he really, really didn’t want to watch Friends. Again. He proposed Sherlock instead, and was faced with the even more terrifying option of Grey’s Anatomy.

They tossed titles back and forth through the entirety of Steve’s walk to his bike, finally deciding to let the almighty Netflix decide their fate – they would just watch the first TV show on Steve’s recommended list. If it sucked… they’d deal with that when it came to pass.

Despite the urge to go to Tony’s thread of conversation, Steve tucked his phone away. He could see that Tony _had_ messaged him, but if he saw what they were, he’d answer, and probably get dragged into another conversation. Doing that astride a motorcycle when he could wait the ten minutes it would take to get home seemed silly, after all.

The ride had never seemed to take so long before.

Almost as soon as he had the bike parked and his helmet off, he was digging the thing out again. Steve could see Clint lounging against his front door, so he tossed the man his keys and was able to focus exclusively on seeing what Tony had sent him. There was indeed a fortune, one that made him give a snort of combined irritation and laughter. ‘Your shoes will make you happy today’… what kind of bullshit fortune was that?

If he didn’t get dinner started, Clint would nag him and whine and eventually get out the Nerf gun he kept at Steve’s house and begin pelting him with foam bullets. Really talking wasn’t an option, so he just thanked Tony, then sent the picture he’d taken at work. It was only his hand, covered in bursts of colors the gelatos had left behind on his skin. One corner of his project – which had turned out very nicely, in his opinion – was in the background as well. He added a message that they were definitely a great present for Tony’s friend, and, in a fit of ambition, even managed to add a link to them on Amazon.com.

By that time he was inside, paused just past the door with one shoe off as he swore under his breath. Why did phones have to be so damned _complicated_? Just as he got it all to work and was back to smiling, he felt something smack into his forehead… and stick. Looking up in confusion, his eyes crossed when they caught sight of a long foam shaft. “What the hell, Clint?”

“I got a new toy!” The absolute glee in his friend’s voice had Steve’s mouth twitching with the urge to smile. Instead, he leveled a mild glare at the man, reaching up to pluck the ‘arrow’ off his head. Suction cups… great. Clint now had a Nerf bow and arrows with suction cups. This was eventually going to end very, very poorly.

“I get hit with one more and I’m ordering out from Charlotte’s diner.” He warned, laughing as Clint sank dramatically to the floor.

“Noooo! Steve, you can’t do this to me! I eat there all the time… I need your home cooking.”

“Then don’t shoot me.”

“You are asking for the impossible!”

“You are such a drama queen. Go to the basement – you know, where you set up all those targets? Where you are tacitly permitted to shoot whatever the hell you want at them? Go there.”

“But then I can’t smell what you’re cooking.” Clint pointed out in a very reasonable tone of voice.

“You mean you won’t be able to sneak bits of it while my back is turned.”

“That too.”

“Again, all you have to do is not shoot me with that thing. Look. We’ll go out to the paintball range this weekend, okay? Me, you, Nat and Bucky. Maria will love having a couple hours to herself, and we can all shoot each other. Sound fun?”

“Sounds awesome, if you can pry Nat away long enough. Doesn’t really solve my immediate problem though.” Letting himself fall forward, he hit the ground with a ‘thud’ that would have concerned Steve if he hadn’t seen Clint do it dozens of times before. Laying there on the floor, spread eagle and looking as miserable and pathetic as he could, he flashed his lower lip at Steve in an exaggerated pout. “All I want is for you to cook me dinner while I shoot things at you. Why are you being so difficult?”

Sighing, Steve finally took off his other shoe and shrugged out of his jacket, juggling his phone all the while. “One arrow lands in the food, Clint, and I’m packing you off to your own house, where you can eat Pop-tarts and Cheetos for dinner.”

Giving a whoop of victory, the man leapt up from the floor in one fluid motion, landing on his feet. “Yes! I don’t care what the others say, you are all kinds of fun. Sometimes.” Probably seeing the furrow in his brow that was the beginning of his ‘Steve is Very Hurt’ look, he abruptly turned around, fingers twitching where they held the bow. “Um. I’m gonna go find a good vantage point. Yeah. You just… you know. Make me dinner. Yeah. Bye!” With that he scampered off, and Steve sighed, resigned to being pelted with toy arrows for the rest of the night.

The next time they all got together, though, he was going to get to the bottom of this. Who said he wasn’t fun? Steve was all about fun! Just because he occasionally talked his friends out of some of their more outrageous stunts, they thought he was a drag. Muttering under his breath, annoyed that the socks still on his feet dampened the sound, he stomped to the kitchen.

Clint was damn lucky Steve was in such a good mood, or he would be making the fried salmon dish that the sneaky little archer hated more than almost anything else. He was also lucky that Steve was such a good friend, because instead he was getting the tomato-basil lasagna with prosciutto that was his absolute favorite.

Steve might not be ‘fun’, but dammit, he could cook like a beast. By the end of the night, Clint would be singing his praises to the high heavens; it would earn Steve at least a week where the man would leap to his defense during the banter their group engaged it.

Worth it.

~.~.~

_Steve. Glitter-bug. Light of my life. Why do you keep sending me pictures of your gorgeous extremities? They make me yearn for more. All that color splattered on your skin does look amazing though – very pretty. If you send me a picture of your art, I could maybe send you one of what I’m working on._

_But only if you swear to keep it secret. Very sensitive material – confidential. Not even Pep has seen it yet. Swear yourself to secrecy, babe, and I’ll blow your mind._  
9:37 PM

**lol sounds ominous**

**but sure i swear**

**will send something tomorrow**

**right now am binge watching in underwear**  
9:38 PM

_Say no more – I would never interrupt such a thing. You could send me a picture of THAT though, and I wouldn’t mind._  
9:38 PM

**no**

**these boxers r ugly**

**Clint would laugh i would blush**  
9:38 PM

**no**  
9:39 PM

_You wound me. I would love to see your boxers, no matter how ugly they are. I’d be even happier to see your blush and find out how far it goes. Wouldn’t want your friend to be making fun of you though, twinkles, so I’ll let you be._  
11:53 PM

**go 2 bed Tony**  
11:54 PM

_Only if you tuck me in first._  
11:54 PM

**kay where r u?**  
11:56 PM

_You can stop calling that bluff any time now, you know. You go to bed Stevie-kins. I promise not to disturb your beauty sleep at an unreasonable hour of the morning._  
11:56 PM

**call anytime.**

**will always answer**

**get some sleep pls**

**nite Tony**  
11:58 PM

_You are… something else, honey-toast. Sleep well, and tomorrow I’ll dazzle you with my genius._  
12:01 AM


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises are easily broken, and sneaky archers are a menace to society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!
> 
> Comments are loved more than chocolate, so maybe leave some if you feel so inclined? <3

Once again, Steve’s dream of the Revenge Brigade (this time battling an army of robots shaped like elephants) was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. It was a different song, and one even more annoying than the last – as he jerked awake, part of his sleepy brain insisted he find a way to lock Clint out of his phone. At least he managed to stay in the bed, though it was a near thing, phone almost tumbling from his fingers. Scratching his bare chest, he answered without even checking to see who it was on the other end.

“Breaking my promise.” Tony told him, not even letting Steve say hello. “Told you it’s easy. Promises are stupid, Steve. Never ever ever make any, glitter-bug. You’ll only feel like a fuck-up when you break them.”

He was so subdued, voice more lethargic than anything Steve had heard yet. It made him sit up at attention in bed, frowning at the door across the room. Even if he didn’t really know Tony, that tone of voice was enough to make him worried for the other man.

“I told you to call if you needed to, so you didn’t fuck up Tony.”

“I promised not to bother you so late though, so I did.”

“Four AM is technically early, so you’re still fine.”

“Steeeeeeve,” Tony groaned, frustration evident. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really. Tell me what you need, Tony.”

“I don’t need anything.” The answer was instant and mulish, which told Steve it was complete bullshit. “Fuck. I don’t know why I called. Sorry Stevie-kins.”

“Hang up and I’ll have to scold you next time you call.” Steve told him, keeping his voice light. “I’ve been told my scoldings are the stuff of nightmares and legends. I don’t think you want one, do you?”

“Little bit, actually.”

“Really Tony?”

“Get that disapproving tone out of your voice, honey-toast. I want the full Steve Rogers experience; that includes, apparently, being scolded.”

“If you say so.” Steve agreed mildly, rolling his eyes. After leaning aback against the headboard, he pulled his knees to his chest, head tipped back and eyes shut. “You still working on that life-changing, money-making whatever that will blow my mind?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“What are you doing then? Besides not sleeping, I mean.”

“Sleep and me don’t mix, babe. Better learn that now… you’ll save yourself a lot of frustration that way. And I’m currently staring at a half-full bottle of Scotch.”

“Oh?” Steve’s heart started to beat just a little faster, but he did his best to keep his voice from sounding accusing. Tony was thinking of drinking… this wasn’t an idle call, no matter how much the other might want it to seem that way. He’d called because he _needed_ Steve, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Until he did, Steve thought he’d better try for humorous and distracting instead of being confrontational. “What happened to the other half? Should I draw up some ‘Missing’ posters?”

“No. It’s just a bottle that Pep missed – JARVIS let me keep it in case of emergencies. Better than forcing me to go out when I want a glass, I guess. He can’t watch me out in the world. Trying to decide now if this is an emergency situation or not.”

“Did something happen?”

“Pep’s not coming back. Well, to the country she is, but… she’s not coming back here. Going to the opposite coast, far away from me as she can be without an ocean between us. Brucie-bear will probably go with her, and even if we visit it won’t be the same. ‘M not drinking to show them I can be better… why bother if they’re leaving me all alone? Why stay sober if no one’s around to see it?”

“For your own well-being? I’m sorry about Pep and Bruce, Tony. It sounds like they’re important to you.”

“They are, even if they are cock-blocking traitors.”

“I know. But Tony?”

“Yeah Stevie-kins?”

“Even when they go, you won’t be all alone. They’ll still be your friends, and you’ll still talk to and see them. And there’s always me too. I’m here for you now, remember? Just a call away.”

“… for now. Until you get sick of me.”

“No, until you decide you don’t need me. I’m yours as long as you want.”

“Fuck, Steve. You can’t say shit like that. It isn’t fair.”

“Even if it’s true?”

“ _Especially_ then. Gets me all emotional, which gives me hives. Be a friend – don’t give me hives.”

“Whatever you say, Tony. Hey, since you called, maybe instead of drinking you could explain quantum mechanics to me? Then we could have one of those ‘interesting’ conversations you’ve been yearning for.”

“Good idea, except I’d explain it better if I were drunk.”

“Well, we’ll skip it then.”

“Buzz kill.”

“So I’ve been told.” Stories – Tony liked stories. He liked it when other people talked to fill the silence so he wouldn’t have to. “Apparently, my friends have decided I’m no fun. Clint let the consensus slip earlier, before dinner. I was reluctant to let him shoot a barrage of Nerf arrows my way – things hurt, even if they are foam. It’s a new toy though, so he was eager, and you’d think I’d kicked a puppy the way he acted when I said no.”

“You said no to him when he had a shiny new toy bow? Aw, poor Clint.” A bit of life had entered Tony’s voice, making Steve perk up a bit, sure he was on the right track.

“Poor Clint my ass,” he returned, grinning when Tony let out a bark of laughter. “I ended up giving in anyway, _and_ he got dinner, **and** the promise of paintball this weekend. Trust me, he came out ahead.”

“Paintball? Really?”

“Yeah. Have you ever been?”

“No. Sounds exhausting. And messy. Mostly messy. Plus Pep would never come, and Bruce wouldn’t like how ‘violent’ it is. Might be able to talk Rhodey into it if I tried though. He loves showing off and shooting things. He’s in the Air Force, you see. Showy little showboat that he is.”

“Did you mean the Chair Force?”

“Oh my god. I do not have time for your military-based playground antics, Steven.”

“Hey, I have nothing but respect for our airmen. Doesn’t change the fact that they do a whole lot of sitting compared to us grunts who did the real work.” Even if he didn’t believe that, it was worth it to hear the way Tony was clearly wavering between being offended on his friend’s behalf and laughing.

“Does the Army condone such thinking? Do they know you’re all twelve year olds playing ‘my dick is bigger’?”

“Don’t know about the other stuff, but being competitive and assertive is definitely seen as a positive.”

“Paintball with you and your friends must be a nightmare.”

“Nah. It’s fun – intense, but fun. Me and Bucky usually team up against Clint and Natasha… it’s awesome. Me and Nat like to get in close while Buck and Clint play the long-range game. Last time, we got sick of being the only two getting pelted while our best friend’s got away paint-free. We deserted them and formed our own team… now _that_ was an intense and very messy day. Before Maria got pregnant, she would join in, which was a mixed blessing. She’s a lot of fun, but we’d flip a coin to see whose team she’d be on… watching Nat pout when her wife has to fight against her is fun, but also a little pathetic. Afterwards, we always go for ice cream. Makes for a good day all around… even if it is messy. If you’re ever in the area, you should join us. I’ll protect you from the mess.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I think I’ll have to pass. I’d be happy to cheer you on from the sidelines though, pork chop.”

“I’ll accept babe and glitter-bug, and even reluctantly consider honey-toast, but don’t you ever call me pork chop again.”

“Stevie-kiiiiins… do not cramp my nicknaming style! Clint was right. You’re no fun.”

“I am so!”

“Whatever you say.” Tony’s voice had completely lost that somber tone, which Steve saw as a victory. Hopefully he’d distracted the man enough to keep him from diving into that half-empty bottle. Yawning as quietly as possible, he gave in to the little voice that said that, since he was awake, it was time to start the day. He slid out of bed, stretched, and then headed out of his room, bare feet slapping lightly against the hardwood flooring. “You have work today babe?”

“’Course. I’m one of those boring normal people, remember? I work all week long.”

“Ugh. Sounds horrible. Sorry I keep waking you up, twinkles. I hate thinking you’ll be tired all day because of me. I forget you keep normal-people hours, not mad-scientist hours.”

“It’s fine. I told you to call when you needed.”

“Not sure that really makes it okay.”

“Not sure that’s really your call to make.”

At that Tony began to ramble indignantly – that seemed to be his default state of being, really. Steve smiled as he half-listened, lumbering down the hallway as quietly as he could manage. When he entered the living room, however, he made out Clint’s shape when the man popped up into a sitting position, and he instantly froze. He didn’t interrupt the man on the phone, but he mostly stopped listening, watching the dark silhouette until Clint clicked on the tableside lamp. His sandy blond hair stuck up at odd angles, and he blinked bleary eyes at Steve – who was still imitating a statue – as he processed his friend’s arrival.

It wasn’t until Clint’s hands began to form signs he could understand that Steve relaxed enough to take another step forward. It was always best to let the man acclimate to his presence slowly; even with his hearing aid out, he possessed a keen sense of other people in the room. When startled, he tended to shoot first and ask questions later.

Steve preferred not to think about when the habit developed; he didn’t want to know what Clint might have been shooting before he acquired his Nerf arsenal.

‘ _Not Nat_ ’, he signed back to Clint’s query, balancing his cell between his ear and shoulder as he did. ‘ _New friend who can’t sleep. Go back to bed_ ’. Accepting that, the other man flopped carelessly back onto the couch, and he was snoring again almost as soon as he was horizontal. Steve rolled his eyes and left the lamp on when he passed it on the way to the kitchen – it wouldn’t bother Clint, and now he could see where he was going. The danger passed, he tuned back into the phone call; Tony either didn’t notice or didn’t care about his lack of response.

“-oper housewarming gift. Brucie-bear could keep one alive, but I don’t **know** that they’ll be living together-”

“Seems a bit presumptuous,” Steve agreed before Tony could go any further, lips twitching as he fought the urge to smile.

“That’s what I thought. So what am I supposed to get her then?”

“Hmm…” No one could ever say Steve wasn’t quick on his feet. It took only a moment for him to figure out what Tony meant and cobble together an acceptable answer. “I don’t really know her, Tony, so I can’t be much help. But you make things, right?”

“Oh my god.” Tony’s voice sounded choked, by amusement and something else that Steve couldn’t name. “Yes, you pure, darling muffin. I ‘make things’, as you say.”

“So make her something.” Steve suggested with a shrug, ignoring the undertone to the conversation that he couldn’t read. “Time and effort are worth more than anything you can just buy. Make her something nice, and it’ll mean a lot more. I mean, if you think she’d like something like that.

He’d arrived in the kitchen, thinking he’d get his coffee going before his run – that way he wouldn’t have to take a detour to start it before his shower. Making it an hour earlier than usual really shouldn’t be any more difficult… but Steve was having a hell of a time measuring out the grounds. Maybe he should figure out how many cups he wanted to make first? While Tony spoke, Steve found himself staring at the white lines and numbers on his coffee pot as if he’d never seen them before; how much water did he need?

“I… that’s… okay, that might work. J, you beautiful, useless bastard, we’re gonna start a new project. Stevie-kins, you may not be a hopeless fun-suck after all, because I am going to enjoy this immensely.”

“That’s not nice.” Steve’s frown turned to slack surprise when the coffee pot suddenly left his grip – did he have a ghost?

The ghost was only Clint, who was smirking while he filled the pot with water. A smirking Clint meant nothing good for him. Nothing at all. “Steve, glitter-bug, honey-toast. I didn’t mean to offend you. After all, you just saved me. Pep’d kill me if I showed up to her housewarming emptyhanded. I’m thanking you!”

“Glad I could help.” Steve answered, unable to keep the wary edge out of his voice as he gave Clint the side-eye. “But next time maybe you could say ‘thanks’ without adding the insulting stuff.”

“You are so fucking demanding. Fine, I’ll try. And is everything alright? You sound distracted. Upset? Are you upset? Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s so late or early or whatever you want to call it, and I’ve just been babbling away. I shouldn’t have called in the first place. I’m fine, daffodil,”

“Daffodil?”

“-so I can let you go. Not gonna drink the Scotch, so you don’t have to keep talking to me out of a misplaced sense of duty. I should let you get back to sleep, or let you start your morning or whatever. I don’t know. Fuck, I wish I knew more about normal people’s schedules. I’m gonna-”

Just after Steve questioned his latest nickname, Clint – the water part of the coffee equation settled – made his move. Steve found himself in the unenviable position of trying to squirm out of Clint’s grip without letting Tony hear the struggle. His friend was making that doubly difficult, because the entire purpose of the attack was to get his hands on Steve’s phone.

“NO!” The command – which was definitely **not** a yelp – didn’t stop Clint, but it did bring Tony up short. “Tony, don’t hang up. I just – Clint! Let go! – sorry, Tony, Clint’s awake and he’s being a _child_ ,” there was a world of scorn in that single word as he glared at his friend. It didn’t faze him in the slightest, of course. One of Clint’s well-muscled arms was around his waist, while the other hand was groping blindly for the phone – blindly only because Steve had planted _his_ free hand on the other’s face, covering most of it. “And he’s trying to get the phone fr- fuck!”

Down they went in a pile of limbs, and the only reason Steve wasn’t angry was because he could hear Tony’s laughter in his ear as they fell. One elbow cracked hard against the tiled floor, which had Steve continuing his cursing streak under his breath. In that state of distraction and loosened grip, it was all too easy for Clint’s evil plan to succeed – the squirmy, conniving little bastard.

“Dooo doo doo!” Clint chirped as he wriggled out of Steve’s grasp as easily as an eel, parroting an annoying dial tone. “We’re sorry, the party you have dialed is unavailable at this time. For your convenience, we’ve connected you with someone far more interesting instead.”

“CLINT!” Knowing well the possible consequences for his actions, the man in question cackled as he darted out of the kitchen. At that point, Steve was only half-way to standing again, and he gave up when he saw his friend round the corner. He collapsed back against one of his cupboards, nursing his elbow with his eyes shut tight.

How was this his life?

Grumbling and huffing to himself, Steve used the counter to help him stand, took a deep breath, and finished getting his coffee ready to brew. It was only after the ‘click’ of the button and the hiss of water heating hit his ears that he went after Clint. Who knew what insanity he and Tony had concocted by then? He did know he wasn’t all that eager to find out.

He tracked the menace to his room, where he was holed up in Steve’s bed, wrapped up in a nest of blankets. It was adorable, really, and at any other time he’d have happily ceded the room to Clint and went about his day… but he had a moral obligation to stop the conversation between his two friends. There was too much at stake to simply walk away, so instead of doing that, he paused in the doorway, listening in. The half of the conversation he could hear wasn’t world-endangering but it _was_ mortifying.

“-course he used the word ‘woo’. Steve’s a grandpa trapped in a young man’s body. He wears khakis all the time, Tony, and he tucks his shirts… yeah, we tried. He says he doesn’t- … no, not on this phone, since I stole it from him. … … might have one on my phone. You’re interested then? … hmmm… fashion issues aside, he’s a walking wet dream, so it’ll-”

“ _CLINT_! Are you trying to _sell_ a picture of me to Tony?!”

“Hold on.” When Clint turned his attention to him, smirking unbearably, Steve was hit with the urge to throttle the man. He’d forgotten how infuriating it could be to be on the wrong end of the man’s pranks. Apparently dinner the night before hadn’t been enough to earn the sneaky archer’s favor… so salmon would be on the menu for the foreseeable future. “No, Steve. I am not ‘trying’ to sell your picture. I am succeeding, and about to negotiate the price. Now. Tony. What would you be willing to… do I have one? Uh, yeah. Its shit though. … … really? You could do that? … uh-huh … okay … nooooo … no Tony. Shirt-on only, unless y-”

With a strangled, inarticulate cry, Steve hurled himself at enemy combatant occupying his bed – he had to be stopped. What followed was a brief, incredibly undignified wrestling match. By unspoken agreement, the phone was left safely on one pillow as they tussled, both of them swearing colorfully – again, Steve could hear Tony’s laughter through the speaker, which salvaged the situation. It took longer than it should have to win – the menace was strong and wily, and part of Steve sort of wanted to just give up on the day and go back to sleep. In the end, he didn’t win because he was stronger or smarter, oh no. He claimed victory only because his alarm clock – which he’d forgotten to switch off – began blaring loudly in an attempt to force Steve to join the waking world.

The way Clint startled was not only comedic gold – it also let Steve push him off the bed. He landed with a thud as Steve grabbed his phone, letting out a quick ‘I’m okay’ as if the champion of their fight cared for his well-being at that moment. Panting softly, Steve secured his spoils and only then silenced the alarm.

“I win.” Steve told Tony, breathless in his victory. “So… so whatever pictures you… were trying to… get out of Cli-”

“Fuck, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Makes me think of… things. Catch your breath before you speak again, kay? I am proud of you though, sugar britches.” It would be absolutely ridiculous to be pleased by the warmth infused in Tony’s voice, so Steve definitely wasn’t. Not even a little. “You showed Clint who’s boss, didn’t you? Good job babe. And hey, while I would’ve accepted the photos from him, I wouldn’t have _really_ enjoyed them. I won’t look at any pictures of you with a smile in heart and a song on my lips until you send them yourself, of your own free will. I’d have been wracked with guilt every time I looked at my ill-gotten gains. Still would have looked, but it would have killed me a little every time.”

“Poor baby.” Steve returned, voice very, very dry.

“The way you minimize my pain is hurtful. You’re being unnecessarily hurtful.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve heard Clint grunt with effort as he hauled himself back onto the bed, curling up against Steve’s side. He might have been touched by the gesture if he didn’t know his friend was just waiting for him to leave so he could have the bed all to himself. Clint tended to sprawl in his sleep. “You gonna survive, or do I gotta find a way to make better?”

“Dammit Steve. Don’t say shit like that. You know what it does to me.”

“Sorry. Hey, I gotta go get all sweaty and winded-”

“Jesus Christ on a crutch, are you trying to kill me?”

“- so do you wanna come on my run with me? If I skip two days in a row, I’ll have a whole lot of extra energy to burn. Extra, frustrated energy.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.” Tony accused as Clint snorted with laughter at his side. “You’re purposefully making me think naughty thoughts. You’re a fucking tease, Stevie-kins, and a terrible man.”

“Well, since I’m not ‘fun’ I have to find other ways to get my kicks.” The groan that escaped as he slid out of bed for the second time was accidental, but he did like the way it made Tony curse again. “So… you coming on my run? I’ll be doing all the work, and we can still talk.”

“What if I wanted to stay with Clint? Would you leave your phone there so I could talk to him?” Looking over at the man curled up under his covers, Steve let out a soft snort.

“Not a chance.”

“Fine, I’ll just call his number then. He gave it to me, you know – just in case you busted us before we finished negotiating.”

“This is going to end so poorly,” Steve mourned as he crossed to his dresser. “And it will probably involve that stupid bow and arrow set. How could I have let him get my phone? I’ve doomed myself and the world.”

“Aww, you have such faith in our abilities! Don’t worry, sugar britches. You’ll survive my evil plan for world domination. Clint and I both like you, after all. Hey…”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For answering. And, you know. Everything else.”

“It’s no problem Tony. Do me a favor?”

“Maybe.”

“If you can’t get rid of the Scotch, could you at least put it away? Somewhere where you have a harder time getting ahold of it?”

“… I could probably do that, since me not drinking it means so much to you.”

“That’s… that’s great. Thanks. But Tony? Maybe you shouldn’t do it for me, but for yourself.”

“I won’t do it for me, Steve. Doing it for you is a slightly different story. Unless an emergency pops up. Now back to my plans for conquering the world. Am I going to have to subdue you, or will you join my side willingly? There are perks, glitter-bug. Awesome perks. Want to know what they are?”

“Hang on just a sec. Gotta get a shirt on first – don’t like to be on display while I run.”

“You’ve been half-naked _this whole time_ and you didn’t _tell me_? Steve! That’s like, an hour I could have spent fantasizing. Fuck. Why didn’t Clint tell me either? Put him back on the phone. I demand an explanation.”

“Yeah no. Hang on.” Steve set the phone down and tugged on a white t-shirt, then took the opportunity to tug on first socks and a loose pair of track pants. On picking the cell up, he waved to Clint – who took his hearing aid out again and settled in for a nap – and made his way back to the kitchen. “Decision time, Tony. I’m happy to keep talking if you want, but I do need to go on my morning run. I’ve got a little holster thing that Maria gave me last Christmas. Usually use it for listening to music, but talking to you will be just as good.”

“Fuck. Stop saying stuff like that, I beg you. Hives are breaking out on my arms as we speak.” Grinning, Steve stopped in front of the fridge, head tipped to one side.

“Not an answer to my question.”

“No shit. I can’t believe you get up this early on purpose. To _run_. Weirdo.”

“Been called worse.”

“I’m sure. Anyway… the urge to drown my woes has passed, and I need to go ‘make things’.” The rumbling chuckle that sounded in his ear absolutely did not make Steve shiver in delight. “So you go on your run, and I’ll switch into engineering mode.”

“Eat something first.”

“Yes mother.”

“And make sure you get some sleep at some point too.”

“Oh my god. Go. Run. Be active. I have things to make. Might not really be in touch until I finish Pep’s present. I tend to get… absorbed when the project is personal.”

“You’ll still take care of yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, I’ll try? Anyway. Don’t pine too hard for me, glitter-bug.”

“I’ll try. Is it okay if I keep texting you, or will that be too distracting?”

“No it’s fine.” Except the man already sounded sort-of distracted, and Steve thought he’d probably started working.

“Alright. And I meant it Tony. Take care of yourself. Please.”

“I’ll do my best babe.”

“Right. Have a nice day, sweetheart.” The rare endearment made him blush, but it was worth it to hear Tony attempt a stuttering, spluttering reply. He laughed through the embarrassment as he pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge; once the door was closed, he lounged back against it. “Bye Tony.”

“That was… that was not fair. I call foul. Not fair at all Stevie-kins. I’m going to get you back later, I hope you know.”

“Mm-hmm. Hang up and go make things, Tony, while I go get sweaty.”

“Don’t want to, not with you being all playful and sneaky. But fiiiiine. The things I do for Pep. Bye Steve. Enjoy your whole ‘being an active, functioning person’ thing. Talk to you s- DUM-E!! What did I tell you abou-”

The call cut off abruptly, but Steve wasn’t worried – he was too busy laughing. When he finally stopped, tears welling in his eyes, he heaved a sigh, still leaning against the fridge. It was going to be a very, very long day – he was already tired, and things had already been so weird. It was going to be a long day, and if he were smart, he’d avoid anything even remotely resembling trouble until he’d gotten a night of uninterrupted sleep. He thought about that as he opened the carton, then took a swig of juice directly from it. As he put it back, he had another idea, one that was a lot more interesting. Maybe he wouldn’t go on his usual route. Maybe instead he’d run over to Bucky’s place and see if his best friend wanted to join him. Sure, Bucky hated getting up before about noon, but it was _such_ a shame to let him sleep the day away.

No one could ever accuse Steve Rogers of being a stupid man… but those who suspected he was secretly a little in love with trouble wouldn’t be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The band-aid of distraction has been used to placate Tony's drinking problem. Yay? XD A chapter or two with Steve and his circle of friends will be coming up next. Paintball will definitely be making an appearance... any other thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve worries, Bucky is over it, and Tony is mostly absent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took way too long to get this written and up, but here it is!
> 
> I'm so happy that people are reading it and seem to be enjoying it. It's fun to write, being a bit sillier than some of my other stuff, and trying to settle into these characters without making them wildly OOC has been super interesting and fun.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please leave comments! I love comments, and squeal loudly whenever I get a new one. <3 I will always reply, even if it takes a while to do so.

“-and he says _no_.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just like that, Stevie, he said ‘no’. Like it woulda been some huge inconvenience, ya know? Just asked ‘im to move some-a his shit, and he goes ‘no’.”

“Fascinating, Buck.”

“I mean, I know the guy ain’t always an ass, I’m try’n ta give him a break. But he just looks at me like I ain’t nothin’ and goes ‘no’. Bastard.”

“You’ve told me this same story at least six times, Bucky. Heard about a hundred variations of it too. Getting’ kinda tired of it. So will you shut your trap and help me with this? It’s your shit apartment I’m cleaning.”

“Didn’t ask you too.” There was enough of a pointed sulk in his friend’s voice that Steve found himself suppressing a sigh. It was true, after all… no matter how much he thought the space needed to be cleaned, Bucky hadn’t asked for his help. And really, the apartment was nearly spotless anyway – only a few messes that came from day-to-day living marred the space. So Steve didn’t need to be helping; Bucky didn’t need him to clean up after him. Bucky had, in fact, asked him _not_ to do the dishes, or sweep, or start a load of laundry. Clint’s place had been a lot worse, giving something to do, and if the two idiots would just-

“I wish you and Clint would move in together,” he groused, crossing his arms over his chest. The glare he was wearing – and it was definitely a glare and not a pout – might have been more effective if he didn’t have a Swiffer Duster clutched in one fist. “It would make everything much easier.”

“You just wanna be able to mother hen the botha us in one stop,” Bucky replied, patently unimpressed with him by this point in the visit. “I offered, he said no, so deal with it. Prolly only’ll be apart another few weeks anyway. If that house comes thro-”

“No!” Steve interrupted, eyes wide with (largely) pretend horror. “No talking about it, remember? We all agreed, otherwise we’ll jinx it. A house in Brooklyn with just the right amount of space at a price we can nearly afford? No. No talking about it until the bank denies that loan I asked for.”

“Oh please. You got squeaky clean credit, you’re a vet with a steady job, and you got that ‘golly ain’t I cute’ smile to top it all off. You’re getting the loan, punk. Now drop the fuckin’ duster and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Steve could feel himself blushing, and that wasn’t good. No, this was another situation where things would end poorly if he didn’t head his friend off. “Everything’s fine, Buck. Why don’t you tell me about Sam again? Or you could explain why you won’t let any of us come to that group to meet him.”

“None of you need to meet him,” was the response Steve got, tone defensive… which from Bucky actually translated to outright hostility. The best defense was a good offense, and his best friend was a master at putting people off-balance with his aggressive tone. It kept most from looking at his body language – that told the real story. His shoulders were hunched up, muscles locked as if he were braced to take a hit. He’d even angled his left side away from Steve, putting the bulky prosthetic slightly behind the rest of him in an effort to protect his injured side. It was enough to make Steve feel like an ass, which lead to him sighing and dropping the subject. That was, of course, the entire point, and sometimes he wondered if Bucky did it on purpose.

“Fine. But if you ever figure out if you’re try’n ta kill him or court him-”

“Oh my fucking God, Stevie. I don’t wanna court him. Might wanna fuck him.”

“Might?” Steve asked, a bit wounded by the condescending eye-roll Bucky had leveled his way.

“Yeah. Might. When he’s not being a fuckin’ prick. ‘No’. Like he owns the goddamn chair. Fucking center owns ‘em, not him, and he don’t need three chairs, even if he does always bring a lotta shit with him. Wipe that smirk off your fuckin’ face, punk, ‘cause you ain’t off the hook.” Steve startled guiltily at the accusation, feeling a bit of pink enter his cheeks as he looked away.

“What’s going on, Stevie? Tasha told me that Maria – Maria, the second biggest mother hen I know, the one who puts up with you better than anyone but me – threw you out because you were hovering. And did you really try’n tell Tasha how her knife collection should be organized?” Taking his non-committal shrug as answer enough, Bucky plowed on. “Clint called just before you showed up too. Said he had some sorta magic fairy visit… one who cleaned his place, did alla his laundry and filled his fridge with neatly stacked meals all portioned out inta Tupperware.” By the end of the sentence, Steve could feel his cheeks burning, and he was fidgeting where he stood, unable to meet Bucky’s eyes. “I know all the signs, you anxious shit. So spill.”

“There isn’t anything wrong!” Steve protested again. There really wasn’t either. Nope, no problems. There was definitely not anything weighing on his mind. He didn’t realize he’d reached for his phone until he was staring down at it… there were no new notifications. And that was fine. Just fine. He wasn’t worried, and there was nothing wrong.

“Are you fucking kidding me? _That’s_ it? That’s why you’ve been nurturing the hell outta the rest of us? Because you’re _pining_?”

“I’m not pining! I might be just a little worried. Only a little. Tony said he might not be able to really talk much for a while, and I’ve gotten a couple of texts, so I know he’s fine. I mean, it’s only been four days. But that’s kinda a long time, isn’t it?”

“Not for regular people it ain’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Met one once. We did a whole ‘Q and A’ thing. Fascinating shit, even if I want no part of it. Some of ‘em go whole weeks without talking to their _friends_ , let alone some random fella they’ve been talkin’ to. Why you so worried, Stevie?”

“He… wasn’t in a good headspace last time we talked. I just hope he’s okay, that’s all. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not so good at taking care of himself. I mean, he’s been sending the odd text, so I’m sure he’s fine. But he needs more sleep than he gets, and he only knows how ta make eggs and toaster pastries.” He had that stupid duster in both hands now, and even if Steve knew how ridiculous he looked, he couldn’t help the way he was wringing the handle. “I just… I dunno. Hey, when’d you last clean your car?”

“Fuck me. No. Just no. I love you like a brother, but this… no. Gimme the stupid duster-thingy.”

“Why do you want it?”

“Stevie. Now.” There was another moment of hesitation on Steve’s part, one in which he saw the exact moment when the last thread of Bucky’s patience snapped. “Steven Grant Rogers. Give me the fuckin’ thing, then get your ass home and do somethin’ not cleaning or phone related, you got me? Sit your ass down, you punk, and draw or somethin’, get your mind offa shit. ‘Cause you’re drivin’ us all nuts, Stevie. Paintball is tomorrow, so don’t piss us off anymore’n we already are alright? Or you’ll have all three guns aimed at ya.”

“I… fine.”

“And stop with that fuckin’ face. You don’t even gotta dog for me to have kicked. So just… stop, okay? This Tony fella is fine, the rest of your brood is okay, so just… go home.”

“Yeah. I’m going, I’m going.”

“Gimme that duster first, punk. Cost a pretty penny, and even if we weren’t buyin’ a house, I couldn’t afford another.”

Rather reluctantly, Steve handed over the duster in question, then exchanged parting words and was on his way. He felt a bit sheepish now, and maybe just a little depressed. Well, not depressed, not really, not exactly. He just… he worried. He worried, and when he worried, he pulled his ‘brood’ close and maybe hovered a little too much. With Tony basically incommunicado, he had that familiar twitch under his skin, the need to care for, protect and nurture those he considered ‘his’ trying to claw its way out.

Maybe he needed a dog.

~.~.~

Listening to the voice of reason – the one that said ‘lack of Tony’ was a poor basis for making a life-changing decision – Steve did not go straight to the pound to pick up a dog. It’d be better to wait and see if they got the house. Then they could all pick one out together – it’d be a great bonding activity. So since a dog was out and he wasn’t very fond of cats, he settled… and came home with two new potted cacti and a hanging plant instead. If his friends needed a break, he’d have to shift his focus. He’d have the prettiest damn plants on the block.

~.~.~

Woulda been nice if the kid running the plant section at the store had told him how little his new cacti would need him. Google was more informative, and he’d picked the absolute worst plant if he wanted to be nurturing. It had him reconsidering that dog.

~.~.~

If paintball day had dawned clear and bright, Steve honestly would have been a little disappointed. Cloudy with a chance of showers – that was how he liked it, and Nat agreed. Clint and Bucky would bitch about cloud cover, trajectory-changing winds and decreased visibility, but Steve never bought that line. Not when he knew both men were secretly gleeful about the added challenges.

So when he switched on the radio in his kitchen and heard the weather report, he was pleased. Not too hot and a good chance of rain… perfect. It put him in such a good mood that he hummed along as he stood at the counter in his boxers, making them all lunch. If he danced a little too, well… there wasn’t anyone around to judge him. His spirits were so high that he could almost forget about Tony.

Almost.

Halfway through making Nat’s sandwich, he heard his phone give a cheerful little whistle to let him know he had a text waiting for him. So much for his relaxed and happy mood, because he dropped everything to lunge for it.

His heart was pounding and his breath was coming a bit fast as he checked who the sender had been… and deflated when he saw it was Clint. He tapped out a half-hearted response, then trudged back to the cutting board, shoulders sagging. Steve was man enough to admit he was sulking, and maybe – just maybe – pining. A little.

It was so _stupid_ to do either, and he was such an idiot. He didn’t even really know Tony, and the other man had sent at least one text every day just to let Steve know he was still alive. For that, he was endlessly grateful, even if he was still worried that the man had let his health go to shit. Despite that, Steve knew his level of anxiety was uncalled for, and he needed to just chill out.

But what could Tony _possibly_ be making for Pepper that was taking so _long_?

He’d stopped going to groups a while ago, but maybe he should work one back into his schedule. It wouldn’t hurt, and it might help him find a better way to channel all his nervous energy. Yeah, he’d have to see if Bucky had any suggestions on groups he thought would fit the bill – Buck kept a tab on all the groups that happened in their area. If Steve thought that had anything to do with the mysterious Sam who was somehow present wherever his friend went, well… he kept that to himself.

Thinking about when he might be able to fit a group in kept him from fretting about Tony, at least for a little while. It was enough time to get through almost all the sandwiches he needed to make - they would take up almost a whole cooler once he was ready to pack them up. It was Nat’s job to bring the drinks, and he was fully expecting a cooler full of Vodka and beer that would have him scrambling to get water for the group so they wouldn’t all pass out from dehydration. Maybe he’d hide a cooler of water in the back of Clint’s truck so he wouldn’t have to hustle…

The last sandwich was his own, and as he layered lettuce on top of his turkey, inspiration suddenly struck. He’d been trying so hard not to pester Tony that maybe he’d gone _too_ far in that direction. Tony had been the one to initiate contact almost every time they talked, and maybe now it was his turn. Definitely his turn, and he was absolutely going to text Tony, only he wasn’t exactly sure what he would say. Scolding was his first instinct, but that was the mother hen in him making itself known. He didn’t think Tony would appreciate it, so he had to push that aside. What to do, what to do…

Remembering the morning when they’d last spoken on the phone, Steve found the answer. Tony had enjoyed his more playful side, so that was what he’d tap into… even if it made him blush just a little. Grabbing his phone, he took a moment to figure out how to stand and the right angle to take the picture from. It was hard, and he felt extremely silly, but he finally managed to get a shot he was happy with.

His almost-finished sandwich was the focus of the picture – or at least it would be to him or any of his friends. Tony, he was pretty sure, would be more interested in his abs, which also had a feature role. It was a bit conceited of him, but he thought he looked decent without a shirt on, and with Tony constantly teasing him about nudes… hopefully he would meet or exceed expectations. Before he could think better of it, Steve went to his messages and sent two to Tony, the picture following along close behind.

**hope ur good, miss talking 2 u**

**paintball today if u evr come, ill make u a sandwich like this one**

Multimedia Message Sent  
7:30 AM

Moments after the picture went through, his phone rang. For the first time in a long time, his ringtone was a normal one, an upbeat tone that made him grin. Sure it was less for the sound and more the knowing that it was Tony calling, but hey. Whatever worked. On answering the phone, he raised it to his ear and didn’t wait to hear the voice on the other end. “Hey Tony.”

“Steve. Stevie-kins. Light of my life. You can’t do things like this to me. You’re killing me.”

“You sound exhausted.” He couldn’t help but let concern color his tone, because Tony sounded _awful_. Besides, it was easier to ignore all the nicknames and endearments – they made him blush and he was sure the man didn’t mean a word. “Have you slept at all?”

“Told you babe. Sleep is not my thing, and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble if you don’t keep haranguing me about it.” Now Tony sounded tired and a little bitter, and Steve cursed himself for the misstep.

“Can’t help it sweetheart. I’m a mother hen at heart – you can nag me about that so we’re even.”

“That doesn’t sound terrible.” There it was, the smile in Tony’s voice, and Steve gave himself a mental pat on the back for salvaging the situation. “But maybe no more nagging for today. I’d rather talk about your muscles, and the fact that you should show me more of them.”

“I was trying to show you my sandwich making skills, Tony. It’s very shallow of you to focus on any muscles I might have.”

“You are a liar and a tease, honey-toast. But fine. I’m very impressed by your sandwich. … I sort of wish I had one. I’m hungry, now that I’m not working.”

“Can’t come today because I have plans-”

“Messy, intense, paintball plans.”

“Mm. But I could head your way tomorrow. Gotta be back on Monday though. Have an appointment at the bank.”

“Stop offering to come, or someday I’ll take you up on it.”

“Good.”

“Shush. Why are you going to the bank? Wait. Are you going to rob it? Please say you’re going to rob it. I’ve always wanted to be part of a heist, and if you’re robbing a bank, I can be your tech guy. Won’t steer you wrong, shnooky lumps-”

“No. I veto that name.”

“So fucking demanding. See if I help you with your heist now.”

“You still would and you know it.”

“Only if you flash your muscles at me.”

“I’m not robbing a bank, you doof. I’m applying for a loan – we found a house in Brooklyn. If I get a little extra help, we can afford it. Hopefully they approve me… I’d like it if we could all get moved in and settled before Maria goes into labor.”

“A loan, huh?” There was something strange in Tony’s voice, but that wasn’t exactly new; there was more to his phone-friend than the man let on. “Well. Hope you get it too. A house in Brooklyn you said?”

“Yeah. Me and Bucky always wanted to live there when we were little. Maybe it’s dumb to want a house there just because of that, but…”

“No. It’s not dumb. I’m sure you’ll get the loan and the house, Steve.”

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed. Trying not to talk about it too much – I’m afraid to jinx it.”

“Then we’d better talk about something else.”

“Or – hear me out – you can go grab something to eat and maybe a nap. Don’t know how far along you are in your project, but it’s been a while. You deserve a break. Besides, I really need to get ready, now that the sandwiches are all done. Clint’ll be here pretty soon, and if I’m not out here to protect our lunch, he’ll eat it all before we even leave.”

“We can’t have that. Tell him I said ‘hi’ and that I no longer need him to provide me shirtless pictures of you. Soon you’ll send me one of your own volition.”

“Dreams are nice, Tony. Hold onto that one.”

“Denial is a good sound on you, babe. Now go get ready for your messy fun. I’m at a point where I can stop, for a little while. I’ll eat and maybe take a nap since it’s so important to you. I should be done by Monday, if you want to call and let me know how your bank visit went. Or you could text. Or, you know, not tell me if you wanted, since it’s so private.”

“I’ll call you Monday. What time do you think? I’ll have to go into work for the afternoon, so I won’t be home until five, east coast time.”

“You don’t have to call, Steve. Really. It’s fine. Stupid idea.”

“What time, Tony?”

“Any time after five is fine. If you want.”

“I will want. I’ll talk to you Monday, Tony.”

“Alright. Go get ready before Clint ruins all your hard work. Have fun shooting your friends with paint babe.”

“I will, thanks. Take care of yourself during your break. Bye sweetheart.”

“Your ability to think of nicknames is lacking, so it’s good I like that one so much.”

“Tony.” Steve found himself laughing more than talking, seeing through Tony’s attempt to start a new conversation instead of hanging up. “I’ll talk to you Monday.”

“Fine. Spoilsport. Have fun. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“… bye.” Steve found comfort in the fact that Tony seemed as reluctant to hang up as he was. Even now that they’d both said goodbye, neither had pushed the button to end the call. Instead there were long moments where they listened to each other breathe. Finally though, Steve heard a sigh and then a ‘click’, and Tony was gone.

It was silly to feel bereft – he’d gotten to talk to Tony, who was exhausted but otherwise fine, and they would talk again on Monday. Steve shouldn’t miss him already, not when they’d never even met in person, not when they’d only been talking for a week – a week where Tony had been largely unavailable. Not only was it silly, it was pathetic. He needed to get his head on straight, or he would be slaughtered on the paintball field, and Bucky would be pissed.

Pushing thoughts of Tony as far away as he could, Steve headed for the shower in a hurry. Clint would be there to pick him up in less than ten minutes, and if Steve wasn’t outside waiting for him, the archer would have no qualms about breaking in. Hopefully the decoy sandwich on the counter would stall him long enough if Steve was too slow… but he wouldn’t bet on it.

It was paintball day, and the weather conditions were perfect. Not too hot, with a good chance of rain and a wind that would pick up as time went on. And even if it hadn’t dawned clear and sunny, Steve suddenly found it just a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing accents is haaaaard. I did my best, but I dunno. I shall have to research how to do it better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paintball is awesome despite being full of backstabbing and betrayal, Steve enjoys a bit of Vodka and gets some important news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! And not weeks and weeks after the last! Yay! This one got away from me a little though. I just know exactly where I'm going with the next part, and I was apparently in a hurry to get there. Oops.
> 
> I adore you all for reading and offering up kudos; I'm so very happy that my silly little story seems to be making people smile.
> 
> Comments make _me_ smile, so if you leave some I will love you forever.  <3

Paintball had been a bloodbath, and Steve couldn’t remember when he’d last had so much fun. They’d started off in their usual teams and on their usual field – being friends with the owner, another vet from group, meant they always got one to themselves despite the low number of players. With the two-hour drive behind them, the whole group was antsy and full of pent up energy; they all were expecting a few brutal rounds before they settled a bit. Overall, everything had started out familiar, following the script exactly. Then Clint had managed to steal a moment with Steve in the field, and they flipped that script on his head.

Where Nat had vetoed the use of the repurposed, untested bow Clint had wanted to play with, Steve was far more open to the idea. Betraying Bucky, who’d been so unsympathetic the night before, only added to the appeal. A few quick words had their strategy set, and soon the battleground was filled with the sound of Nat and Bucky swearing loudly and creatively. It had set the mood for the rest of the day: alliances shifted every game, and often several times in each round. They called a truce during lunch… a truce Clint promptly broke by shooting Bucky in the back with his paint-bow. Only a quick scramble up a nearby tree and a promise to put the weapon away had saved the weapon from being broken to bits.

It had rained on and off most of the afternoon, so when ice cream time rolled around they were soaked in addition to being slightly sore and covered in smears of paint. Nat was the cleanest – somehow she always managed to be – so she went in to order their treats. Once she returned, four bowls balanced in her hands, they ate outside in the light, warm drizzle.

“Tony wants to know if Steve looks sexy covered in paint,” Clint announced suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. “So can we have a vote to decide the matter before I answer?”

There was a long silence during which Steve gaped, Bucky rolled his eyes, and Nat settled an almost predatory gaze on Steve’s face.

“Tony?” It almost seemed like an idle question, but Steve knew better. Swallowing hard, he took a large bite of ice cream as a stalling tactic. The brain freeze was worth those few extra moments to plan how he might answer without getting smacked.

“He hasn’t told ya? Lucky you. Been bitchin’ ta me all week.”

“They’re practically dating,” Clint added ‘helpfully’, earning him a glare from Steve.

“I see.” Nat moved with the sudden grace of a hunting feline, but Clint was usually able to predict her actions. That didn’t get him far most of the time, but he was able to hold onto his cell for a few extra moments that neither Bucky or Steve would have managed. It only earned him pain, however, because the redhead took hold of his wrist and gave a rather vicious looking twist. The archer yelped and dropped the phone into her waiting hand, complaining that he could no longer feel his fingers.

“Nat, we’re not even close to dating,” Steve promised, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow. “I’ve never even met him. He random dialed me one night and we’ve just been talking. I didn’t want to bother you with it since you need to be focused on Maria, and…” He trailed off when she pinned him with a pointed glare, that eloquent brow of hers arched. “Sorry Nat. I shoulda mentioned him when I came to see you and Maria the other day, since these two jokers knew. They’ve just been giving me hell over it, so I was a little nervous.” He had nary a qualm about throwing the other pair into her path to get the heat off of him. For added effect, he busted out his ‘Steve is Very Hurt’ look; Bucky swore and Clint almost pushed his ice cream off the table with his wild hand motions as he denied the charge.

“You should have told us,” Nat agreed, ignoring the antics of the other men for the moment. “But only because he seems important to you, and having these two idiots as your only confidants must have been terrible.” Even as she spoke, tone cool and aloof, she was writing a message to Tony on Clint’s phone.

“He really _did_ get your number.” Steve murmured faintly, wondering how exactly this had all happened. “I thought he was kidding.”

“Nah. I text him all the time. He mostly doesn’t answer,” he added hurriedly, his eyes going wide as he risked losing his ice cream again; his spoon did go flying out of his hand during one sweeping gesture. It was a regular enough occurrence that no one even blinked, and Nat wordlessly offered him another. “He just doesn’t seem to mind when I have one-sided conversations with him. Sometimes he returns the favor late at night is all.” Steve was pretty sure he looked just a little devastated, because Nat reached up and smacked Clint upside the head while Bucky settled a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze.

It wasn’t that he mingled he two talking – part of him wanted Tony to have the numbers of everyone in their little tribe. Then they could all be there for him when he needed someone to talk to, and Tony might feel more like he belonged somewhere. So he and Clint exchanging texts wasn’t the problem at all.

The problem as far as Steve was concerned was that Tony hadn’t felt comfortable sending _him_ any rambling, one-sided conversations. He’d hardly gotten anything for four days, but Clint probably had whole walls of texts from him. It was so unfair, and why hadn’t he gotten any? Maybe if he needed to text Tony more… maybe if he did, Tony would stop thinking he could do that. Yeah. He could do that. Absolutely, if it would help Tony feel comfortable, even if he really wasn’t big on sending texts. Yeah. He’d start doing that.

“Look, ya jerk. You made him put that ‘you kicked my dog’ face on.”

“Not my fault! I didn’t make Tony text me. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong.” Clint’s expression was rebellious, and he had his arms crossed defensively over his chest. Steve managed a weak smile, itching to grab his phone and ignore them all in favor of trying to get a hold of Tony.

“He’s right, Buck, so stop trying to make him feel guilty. I’m glad tony had someone to talk to.” He just sorta maybe wished it had been him.

“I like him.” Nat’s firm words broke the tension, drawing their attention back to her. Steve had almost forgotten she still had Clint’s phone and had been presumably talking to Tony the whole time. “He agreed to let me kill him if he hurts you and he asked how Maria was.” Of course the second would have been enough to earn him the benefit of the doubt from Nat, but Steve was a bit irritated about that first bit. Tony didn’t need even a teasing shovel talk. “I’m going to give him my number too.”

“Oh my god.” Steve moaned, dropping is forehead to the table with a thunk. He could only imagine the ways Nat would find to subtly torture him with this. “Why are you all trying to hurt me?”

“Hey! I don’t wanna be the only one not talkin’ to Steve’s fella.”

“He’s not my fel-”

“Give ‘im my number too Tasha.” Well, Steve was getting one wish… just under one of the most embarrassing scenarios he could imagine.

“Nat, give me back my phone. I still have to tell Tony how sexy Steve is with all the paint on him.”

“You think Steve’s sexy?” The doubt in Bucky’s voice was just hurtful, and the thought of what Clint might text to Tony drew an unhappy whimper from his throat. This time it was Nat who comforted him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner after handing Clint his phone.

“No, but Tony would. I’d send a picture, but then I wouldn’t get anymore lasagna for a while,” Clint told Bucky sagely, already tapping the screen of his phone. “And that shit’s way too good to jeopardize.”

“True.”

“Nice to know you’re only acting decently so I’ll make you food.”

“Don’t sulk, Stevie. We’ll be real nice to your bo-”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Steve practically shouted, jerking upright in his chair. “We’re just friends!”

It was only after his outburst that he saw that all his friends were wearing the same teasing, shit-eating grin. They were only trying to get him going, he realized, and he blushed at how well they’d succeeded. Sure, Tony’d have all their numbers, but a lot of the rest of it had just been a way to irritate him.

“I hate all of you.” Steve informed the group, standing up and leaving his half-finished dish of ice cream on the table. “I’m not cooking for anyone but Maria and my god-baby for the foreseeable future.” When he walked away, they laughingly shouted at him to come back, but still let him go. They all still had ice cream left after all, and Clint would have his eye on Steve’s leftovers as well; they probably thought he was just headed off to sulk by Clint’s truck in an attempt to make them feel bad. They’d forgotten that he’d borrowed Bucky’s keys when he went to grab the cooler of drinks. They’d forgotten that Steve hadn’t gotten around to giving them back.

Steve laughed when he saw the moment they all realized what he’d actually gone to do. Watching Bucky and Clint running after the car, shouting and waving their arms, filled him with an immense sense of satisfaction. It only got better when he saw that Nat had remained seated and had dumped all the remaining ice cream into her own bowl to eat herself. As a reward, he added her to the mental list of people he would cook for.

Since they’d been having such a good time making fun of him, he was doing them a favor. He’d give them even more time to bond during the two-hour ride back to the city in Clint’s cramped, two-seater trucked.

Steve was a very generous friend.

~.~.~

_Your friends are insane. Now I know where you get it from._  
8:47 PM

_Did you really steal Bucky’s car?_  
8:50 PM

**yup**

**no regrets**  
8:51 PM

_I find that disturbingly hot._  
8:51 PM

**was covered in paint @ the time 2**  
8:51 PM

_Fuck me, glitterbug. My heart. Are you trying to kill me via an overload of sexy?_  
8:52 PM

**dam u discovered my evl plan**

**no more sexy talk since u caught on**  
8:52 PM

_I’ve suddenly developed a case of amnesia. What were we talking about?_  
8:52 PM

**about how ur a pervert**  
8:52 PM

_Lies and slander._  
8:53 PM  


**mmhmmm**  
8:53 PM

_Sometimes you’re very hurtful, honey-toast._  
8:53 PM

**I don’t mind it u know**  
8:54 PM

_Don’t mind what? Being cruel to me?_  
8:54 PM

**no notthat**  
8:54 PM

_What then?_

_Oh. The perverted thing?_  
8:54 PM

**yeah that**  
8:54 PM

_Now you’ve done it. You’ve opened Pandora’s Box, babe, and it can’t be shut again. If you don’t mind perverted, I don’t have to hold back so much. Gonna rock your world, love-muffin._

_Bet you’re blushing huh? Your cheeks are probably all pink, and that’s adorable._  
8:56 PM

**don’t blush am not adorable**

**slander and lies and stuffM**  
8:56 PM

_I don’t believe you babe. Sorry._  
8:56 PM

**no ur not**  
8:56 PM

_No, I’m not. No regrets, sugar britches. By the way. I got Nat and Bucky’s numbers today. Is that… okay?_  
8:58 PM

**of course**

**y wouldnt it be?**  
8:58 PM

_I just wasn’t sure. If you’d mind, I mean. They’re your friends._  
8:59 PM

**now theyre yours 2**  
8:59 PM

_I guess. Nat is terrifying, by the way._  
8:59 PM

**mmm told you. good taste in vodka tho**

**found some in BUcks car**  
9:00 PM

_Steve._

_Stevie-kins._

_My little sun-kissed daffodil._

_Are you drunk?_  
9:00 PM

**maybe a little**

**like this much (---)**  
9:00 PM

_Steve. Babe. I can’t even begin to imagine how much that might translate to._  
9:00 PM

**vry small amount**

**less than this (-------)**  
9:01 PM

_Yeah. Yeah I guess it would be. That's very helpful. I can’t really imagine you drunk, you know. You always seem like such a boy scout._  
9:01 PM

**sorry didnt mean 2 drink**

**good vodka**

**bad example**

**bad steve**  
9:02 PM

_No, good Steve. Just because I’m trying not to drink doesn’t mean you can’t._  
9:02 PM

**shouldn tho**

**want 2 b supportive**  
9:02 PM

_You are supportive. It’s fine, I promise. Hearing you talk about Vodka isn’t going to make me go grab that bottle of Scotch. Partly because JARVIS has it locked up where it’s a bitch to get to._  
9:03

**Tony**

**Tony im sorry**

**didnt mean 2 make u want scotch**  
9:04 PM

_No! No, that isn’t what I meant. You wanted me to put it away, remember? Where it was harder to get to. I just wanted you to know I had. I’m not craving Scotch, honest._  
9:04 PM

**so sorry sweetheart**  
9:04 PM

_Steve, babe, it’s okay. I swear on DUM-E, so you can trust me, alright? Don’t worry about it._  
9:05 PM

**did u call me daffodil?**  
9:05 PM

_You didn’t do anything wrong._

_… yes. I did call you that. A good five minutes ago. Maybe you should go to bed, sparkles._  
9:05 PM

**not a flower**  
9:06 PM

_You’re sort of missing the point._  
9:06 PM

**am not**

**wanna see my muscles?**

**flowers dont have muscles**  
9:06 PM

_You’re fucking killing me. No, don’t show me your muscles._  
9:07 PM

**u dont wann see them?**  
9:07 PM

_I very much want to see them, just not when you’re drunk, even if it’s only a little. So go to bed, okay?_

_If you still want to show me your muscles in the morning, I’d love to see._  
9:07

**ok g2g 2 bed**

**Tony?**  
9:08 PM

_Yeah snugglelump?_  
9:08

**talk 2 Nat n Bucky theyll b good 2 u**

**no talkng to Clint**  
9:09 PM

_Why not Clint?_  
9:10 PM

**u 2 talking is scary**

**I would fear for the world**  
9:10 PM

_What if I promise we’ll leave the world alone?_  
9:10 PM

**might b okay then**

**Tony im tired**  
9:11 PM

_That’s why you’re going to bed, Steve._  
9:11 PM

**am in bed like u said**

**that rhymes lol**  
9:11 PM

_So fucking adorable. You made it to the bed – good job gorgeous. Now put the phone down and go to sleep._  
9:11 PM

**k Tony**

**nite**  
9:13 PM

_Night babe. Sweet dreams._  
9:13 PM

~.~.~

_Steve? Just so you know, it isn’t really your muscles that I want to see. A picture of your face would be even better. Drink lots of water when you wake up, and maybe take some Aspirin. Tipsy Steve is fun and adorable, but I’d hate for him to turn into miserably hungover Steve. If I was there with you I’d make you some really greasy eggs and burnt bacon for breakfast to help you feel better._  
2:26 AM

_I wish I was there. And not just to make you hangover food or because I have to fly out to Pep and Brucie-bear’s new house in a few hours and it’s going to suck._  
2:28 AM

_Just… kinda wish I was there._  
2:29 AM

_That’s stupid, isn’t it?_  
2:36 AM

_Ignore that. I’m just… tired. Yeah. Have a good day babe._  
2:37 AM

~.~.~

**Tony? Wish you were here too.**  
6:02 AM

~.~.~

By an unspoken agreement, neither of them mentioned Steve’s tipsiness or Tony’s foray into sentimentality despite texting on and off all day. Knowing how torn up the man was about Pepper and Bruce and their move across the country, Steve made a conscious effort to connect with him whenever he had a moment. He didn’t worry about having a _reason_ to text – he just did. Silly little things, observations, a few pictures that he’d taken. He almost sent a picture of himself, but chickened out at the last minute and snapped a shot of one of his paintings instead.

For his part, Tony made quips and teased him endlessly, though he did seem genuinely impressed by Steve’s artwork. A few times, his friend’s humor bordered on cruel, but that didn’t bother Steve too much, not in the way that might be expected. Most of the people he knew were a bit abrasive in one way or another, and he wasn’t always a picnic to be around either. So he rolled with it and snarked back, sometimes prompting an apology he didn’t really need but appreciated regardless. If Tony needed to be snippy with him, well, he didn’t really mind all that much. Not if it helped him deal with the situation he was going through.

When he wasn’t texting Tony, Steve was looking over the paperwork he would need to bring to the bank the next morning. He was doing his best to convince himself that he wasn’t nervous, but was failing miserably. It was all on him – Bucky and Clint had average credit, but when combined with their lack of steady employment, it wasn’t enough. They’d given what they could instead, nearly emptying their savings. Nat and Maria had already poured even more into the account, making up the bulk of the money they’d use to purchase the house – Maria’d received a modest inheritance a few years ago that had been waiting for a rainy day in a savings account, and Steve didn’t quite dare to ask where Nat had gotten any of her money. He’d been able to contribute some funds as well, and it was _almost_ enough.

Without this loan, they couldn’t get the house. If he got turned down, finding something in the city before Maria gave birth was incredibly unlikely. They’d discussed the possibility of moving elsewhere, but none of them had been excited by the idea. So New York City it was, with everything riding on getting the last of the money in place.

Steve _had_ to get this loan.

Everything he had to bring was tucked neatly into a crisp new folder, organized exactly the way one of Maria’s work friends had suggested. He had a speech all prepared, had done research to be able to (hopefully) answer any questions the loan officer had for him, and his perfectly pressed suit was hanging on his closet door. He could be impressive, he could, and he could absolutely do this for the friends that had become his family. Yes, he could absolutely do this, because there was no way he was going to fail his god-baby before she or he even arrived.

Perhaps knowing that he was just a little less certain and confident than he tried to appear, his friends had all sent a barrage of encouraging messages in the evening. Clint had waxed on about his virtues, ones the bank was sure to love – though how making a ‘kickass lasagna’ would impress them he failed to understand. Maria sent several supportive messages, reminding him (among other things) to breathe and that he’d faced far more difficult trials than this. Nat reinforced the second by reminding him that at least the banker wouldn’t be trying to kill him, which was more reassuring than it seemed on the surface. In a rare moment of softness, she added that she had absolute faith in him; from her, that meant a lot. Meant everything, really. Bucky had mostly called him a punk and made wildly inappropriate jokes, but Steve appreciated the way that made him laugh more than he could tell.

From Tony, he had snarky messages about the trials of flying.

That was okay though – he didn’t really expect Tony to be as invested in this as he was, as his family was. Steve’d still call after work like they’d planned, and hope the man wasn’t too busy to answer. However the thing went, it would be nice to hear Tony’s voice in his ear after the fact. Having that was better than any text Tony might send on the subject while he was in a bad mood.

Even though that was absolutely true, Steve still felt his heart give a happy little lurch when he woke up Monday morning to find a text from Tony.

_Today is the big day, isn’t it? I know you’ll knock ‘em dead, honey-toast. If you get done with your appointment soon enough and don’t have to rush to work right away, you can call me after you let the rest of the gang know the good news. I’ll celebrate a little with you then, and you can still call after work too. You’ve got this babe._

~.~.~

Even armored with the faith of his family, Steve still felt his stomach give an uncomfortable squirm when he pulled into the parking garage closest to the bank. He was almost half an hour early – he’d planned it so he could have a small anxiety attack in Bucky’s borrowed car and still have time to pull himself together. Laying his hands on the steering wheel, Steve closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, ignoring the little voice that popped up in his head, the one that had been with him since he was a sickly little kid; the one that told him he was small and weak, and that he should just give up because he would never be able to do anything for himself, let alone someone else.

These days he tried to challenge that insidious part of himself, but it was too much of a struggle to embark on just before this crucial meeting. Pushing it aside and soldiering on was the more prudent option, so he focused instead on his goal. He needed a loan to get his tribe, his brood, his family, where they needed and deserved to be. They needed him to do this so he would, simple as that. Failure was not an option, and while he couldn’t completely take on the role of Sergeant Rogers, he could draw on that part of his persona to bolster him and get him through this. It would be fine. He could do this.

The ringing of his phone jolted him out of his meditative state, and Steve was startled enough to swear as he fumbled for his cell. In a way it was a blessing – otherwise he might have forgotten to put the thing on vibrate before he headed into the bank. He should thank whoever it was, not wish small but annoying inconveniences upon them.

When the caller ID revealed that the caller was the real estate agent they’d been working with, Steve felt his heart stop. Shit. Shit shit shit. What if Mrs. Thompkins, the kind older woman selling the house, had accepted another offer? She was being so patient with them, willing to wait for them to try and gather funds instead of accepting the offers of other perspective buyers… but that only went so far. Fuck, what if this was too late? What if they’d lost that perfect house and there was nothing he could do about it?

“Hello, this is Steve Rogers.” Thank fuck his voice was even, because he could feel a slight tremor in his hands.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. This is Kurt Langley. How are you?” Well, the man didn’t sound like he was ready to dash Steve’s dreams against the rocks, so hopefully this wasn’t a call delivering dire news.

“I’m alright, getting ready to head into the bank for a meeting with the loan officer. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. That’s actually why I’m calling – about you seeking a loan. Turns out it might not be necessary after all.” Steve’s heart plummeted again, and he had to swallow several times before he found his voice again.

“Why is that?” he asked, doing his best to sound curious instead of terrified.

“Well, I just got off the phone with Ms. Owens, Mrs. Thompkins’ real estate agent. There’s been… well.” Kurt sounded a bit bewildered, and Steve’s free hand was clutching the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip. “Things have changed.”

“Was it another buyer?” Steve asked, swallowing hard. “Or did she raise the price?” That at least was something Kurt had warned him about, that the asking price might go up a bit as incentive for waiting for them.

“Actually… it’s the damnedest thing. Ms. Owens informed me that it’s just the opposite – the price has gone down considerably.” As his panicky terror suddenly gave way to a disbelieving, giddy kind of hope, Steve felt rather lightheaded and found himself loosening his tie.

“Gone down?” His voice was little more than a croak, but he thought Kurt would understand, since the agent seemed thrown for a loop as well.

“Yes, considerably. Apparently Mrs. Thompkins has been thinking about what you and the Mrs. Romanoff’s want to do with the place… guess it touched a soft spot. She wants to make sure you folks are the ones who get it – says she’s thrilled to think of the place full of love and family and the sound of little feet running over the floors. Damnedest thing,” he repeated, and Steve could practically see him shaking his shaggy head. “So for you, the price has dropped a frankly staggering amount, while the asking price for everyone else has skyrocketed. I’ve been looking over the proposal, and the information you’ve given me, and… Mr. Rogers, you don’t need the loan to secure the property.”

All the breath ‘whooshed’ out of his body, and Steve collapsed in his seat. “I don’t need the loan?” It was like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself having this conversation, partly convinced it was all a crazy dream. A crazy impossible dream.

“No, Mr. Rogers. You don’t need the loan. I would recommend seeking a smaller sum to have on hand for any renovations, but… if you don’t get it, you’ll still get the house.”

“I… that’s… did you call Nat and Maria?”

“No, I thought it best to get ahold of you first, as you were the one looking to borrow money. Besides, I was afraid to get Maria on the phone and have the shock be too much. I think the news will be better coming from you. Congratulations, Mr. Rogers. You and the Mrs. Romanoff’s will soon be proud homeowners.”

Steve didn’t really process the rest of the call, except for the date and time when they’d meet to finalize all the legalities. This was surreal, and amazing, and… and things like this didn’t happen to him, to any of them. They’d all fought tooth and nail to get where they were; nothing ever came easy. To have this, of all things, practically handed to them… Steve wasn’t at all ashamed of the tears he felt rolling down his cheeks. 

Finally, finally they were getting a break, and they could have everything set up before Maria had the baby.

Part of him wanted to just drive away and go to Nat and Maria’s house to give them the news – it would be better done in person, in case it was too much for the pregnant woman. She’d had such a rough time of it, and even such wonderful news might be too much of a shock. He might have done just that, if it weren’t for Kurt’s advice. A smaller loan would give them a bit of a cushion to fall back on, and he was far more likely to be approved. The weight of the world was suddenly off his shoulders, and he felt light enough to float away. This meeting would be a piece of cake, and he didn’t need the twenty minutes left to prepare.

So instead he grabbed his phone and dialed the first person who came to mind.

“Steve? Is something wrong? You’re supposed to be at the bank, aren’t you?” The concern in Tony’s voice was genuine and warmed him from the inside out. It was enough to somehow make it all feel _real_ and Steve couldn’t help the laughter that tumbled from his lips. “Steve?” Tony sounded alarmed now, so he made an effort to calm himself, relaxing back into his seat.

“Everything’s fine. Perfect, in fact. We’re getting the house for sure, even if I don’t get a loan. God, Tony. I was so worried, but… we got the house.”

“That’s great!” There was something strange in Tony’s voice underneath the exuberant happiness, but Steve wasn’t too concerned with finding out what it was. “But what happened? Did you win the lottery or do the unthinkable and rob a bank without me?”

“Of course not Tony,” Steve answered, laughter in his voice. “I’d be a terrible bank robber – I’d apologize to everyone through the whole job, then feel bad and give the money back and turn myself into the police. No… the lady selling the house lowered the price. Just for us, just like that. She lowered it enough that I don’t have to borrow anything if I don’t want. Fuck. I can’t believe it. The real estate agent called, and I was so sure he was going to say she’d found another buyer. God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack right here in the car.”

Tony made a strangled sort of noise, then cleared his throat before speaking. “Sorry you got so upset, babe.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“Right. Right. Not my fault. Ah, did he say, you know, why she lowered the price?” Again there was something just a little off, making Steve frown. Before he could ask, Tony barreled on. “I’m just asking because there might be something wrong. Ghosts or some shit. What reason did she give?”

“I dunno. Guess she just liked the idea of a family moving in. She’s pretty much alone – think she mentioned a niece living in South Carolina – and I guess she just wanted the house to have some life in it. With us there it’ll certainly have that.”

“Good! I mean, you should still check for ghosts, don’t get me wrong. I’m really happy for you, Steve.” The warm, rich tone of Tony’s voice had Steve willing to forget the odd vibes he’d been getting; in fact, he was practically melting in his seat. “Fuck, this is amazing news. If I wasn’t here with The Traitors, I’d be tempted to find you and take you out to celebrate.”

“Too bad you had to go visit them then.”

“Maybe when I get back home.”

“Sorta wish you meant that.”

“… I almost do.” Tony’s voice was so quiet that Steve almost missed those words, and the sigh that came after them. “Did you tell everyone else yet?”

“No.”

“No? I… you didn’t…” Tony sounded downright unnerved, with a hint of wonder there as well. “You called me first?”

“Ah, yeah. I… should I not have?”

“No! That’s not what I…” There was a pause, and then a deep breath before the man continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s first call. Maybe Rhodey a time or two. But I… I tend to be a last call, not the first. Just… it’s a weird feeling. Good, but weird.”

“The people in your life are assholes.” Steve informed him, bluntly and with great feeling. The bitterness in Tony’s laugh hurt, like a punch to the gut.

“Some of them, yeah. Most of them. But really it’s mostly me. I’m the asshole, Steve. There’s a reason I don’t belong.”

“Bullshit. Bucky’s an ass and I still love him like a brother, and Clint’s a little shit when the mood strikes. Nat and Maria are less awful, but they have their moments. Relationships and love aren’t supposed to be easy; if they are, something ain’t right. So even if you are an asshole, people like that Pepper and Bruce and Rhodey you’re talkin’ ‘bout shouldn’ be shovin’ you to the back of the line.”

“Hello sexy accent, where have _you_ been hiding?”

“Don’t try’n change the subject, Tony!”

“Look, Steve, my life is fucked up. I’m fucked up. My piss-poor relationships are all at least partly my fault, okay? You can’t… you can’t fix them. I can’t fix them. They’re all slightly broken, have been for a long time. I’m mostly good with that, so just drop it.” If Tony hadn’t sounded so tired and so resigned, Steve might have argued and pushed. Instead, he grumbled unhappily a few moments, then moved on.

“Look, the accent… I dunno. Lost most of it in the army moving up the ranks. People responded better when it wasn’t so obvious. Sometimes when I get a little worked up, I… slip.”

“Hmmm. So by worked up do you just mean angry, or…” Blushing, Steve refused to answer, because Tony and his rumbling purr didn’t need any help from him. No, the man was quite capable of being outrageous all on his own. “You all pink, babe? Bet you are. Still want to know how far down the blush goes. Maybe someday I can find out while I get you worked up.”

“Tony!”

“You said you didn’t mind the perverted side of me, Stevie-kins.” The pure sex had left Tony’s voice, a teasing, fond tone taking its place. “You still haven’t seen even the tip of the iceberg either. Someday you’ll let me _really_ talk dirty to you.”

“Not true.” Steve wished he didn’t sound like he was trying to convince himself, and he wished he wasn’t feeling a tug of arousal that was just silly. He’d never even seen Tony! Wanting him was ridiculous. “And stop it. I gotta go meet the loan officer still. Want to see if I can get a small one so we have a bit of a cushion. Just in case. Don’t need to be all worked up when I go see him.”

“I see. Don’t want to go in with your little soldier giving me a salute, huh?”

The noise that escaped Steve would have sounded at home coming from a boiling kettle, and he felt flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his toes. “Not helping!” he managed after a moment, unsure if Tony could even hear him over his own laughter.

“Sorry, sorry. Almost really.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Yup. That’s me in a word. Go get your loan, shnookums. Get your loan, share the good news with your friends.” There was a hesitation, and when Tony spoke again there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “And you can still call me. After work, I mean. I’ve got some boring stuff to do today – Pep works with me, and she’s always nagging me about paperwork – but I’ll have some free time. So you can call. If you want. Or text. But if you’re busy that’s fine.”

“I’ll call you later Tony. I like talking to you.”

“You’re so weird. You and all your friends are weird.”

“So are you, so you should just come move in with us. You’d fit right in.”

“Ah, no. No thanks. I like you liking me; living with me would ruin that.”

“Doubt it.”

“Shush and go impress the hell out of whatever bank you’re using. I have to go pacify Pep anyhow.”

“Alright. Bye sweetheart.”

“Bye Stevie-kins.”

Once they’d hung up, Steve took a moment to calm himself down – he didn’t know why Tony got to him the way he did, but… well. When he had himself back under control, he grabbed the folder and stepped out of Bucky’s car, squaring his shoulders. This was going to go well, and they’d gotten the house, and this was absolutely perfect.

Everything was finally coming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pffft. I know nothing about loans (besides student ones) or loan officers or buying houses. Nothing. So any weirdness or errors is entirely due to ignorance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other shoe always drops, even if things are good for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! There's a couple chapter-specific tags I want to give, because I don't want to like, traumatize anyone or anything. It's related to Maria and the baby, and if you want/need more specifics than that, go to the end notes, okay?
> 
> Oh my gooood. I'm so sorry this took so long. This semester at school is KILLING me. 
> 
> I hope it isn't terrible, and I love you all for continuing to read it despite the long gaps between postings. <3
> 
> Please leave comments? They make me giddy with glee.

Everything fell apart a week before the big move.

Things had been going so well – too well – and it had gone to Steve’s head. That part of him that was always clenched against disaster had actually eased, and he’d been so sure that this time it was all going to work out. That this time, they’d all get their happily ever after, because God did they ever deserve it.

Then, on a Tuesday at two in the morning, Steve’s phone rang.

~.~.~

But before that, things had been just about perfect. Maria and the peanut were doing much better, though still confined to bed. Nat was, of course, over the moon at the news, and in a fit of happiness helped Bucky get work as a bartender. That had his best friend feeling more confident and capable, while Clint was… well. He was _Clint_ , though a happier one than he’d been before everything started to fall into place. An upswing of painters buying supplies at the store meant Steve got to teach a lesson every week, and he’d even been commissioned to do a few pieces as a result. All the paperwork they’d needed to fill out had gone through without a hitch, and Maria had been allowed a brief field trip to the house when Mrs. Thompkins turned over the keys.

If every single one of them – even Natasha – had cried a little when Maria took said keys in hand, it was nobody’s business but their own.

And Tony… God _Tony_.

Since the call they’d shared in the parking garage, their relationship had deepened steadily. There wasn’t any sense of hesitation on Steve’s part anymore; he didn’t wait until he had something to _say_ before texting or snapping a picture to send. Any time he got the urge, he sent something pinging down the line… and Tony had seemed to blossom under the attention. Now Steve got even more walls of text than Clint, waking up to them every morning. While they didn’t necessarily _talk_ every day, there was always some point of connection, a sense that the other person was _there_. When they talked on the phone, the sense of urgency and neediness had largely faded from Tony’s end – it wasn’t just because he was in a crisis that he dialed Steve’s number anymore.

As a result, they’d been able to learn a lot more about each other. Tony was still pretty evasive and vague with some things, but Steve didn’t really mind. Not when he was so sure that what he _was_ getting was the absolute truth – just maybe not all of it, and he could live with that. He loved that Tony was an engineer, an inventor, and enjoyed how he got little hints and pictures about what he was working on. Then, when Tony started to send him videos of DUM-E wheeling around sections of the workshop causing absolute chaos (Tony scolding him in the background), Steve didn’t think he’d ever felt so honored. The other man _loved_ the silly bot, and knowing that he was trusting Steve with that part of his life was sort of humbling and warming – he was pretty sure not many people got such an intimate view of Tony’s ‘child’.

It mattered even more because he knew Tony wasn’t very quick to trust anyone, not even him. Steve had made the mistake of trying to ask about his family once, and the man had lost it over the phone. In the fallout, he’d shut Steve out completely for three days; if his circle hadn’t had the engineer’s number and made sure he was taking care of himself, Steve probably would have gone insane with worry. When Tony finally let him back in, Steve followed his lead and pretended none of it had ever happened. He’d been too afraid to ask if the whole thing had made Tony reach for that half-finished bottle of Scotch again. The message had been received, loud and clear – the topic was off the table completely until and unless Tony himself brought it up. Nothing else seemed to be quite as touchy, but now when he started to hear that same note in Tony’s voice, Steve knew to drop it.

Every day he learned a little more about Tony, and damn if he didn’t like what he learned. He liked hearing the wash of affection and admiration under the insults he lobbed at Rhodey, Pepper and Bruce; no matter what he said, he knew Tony loved all three. Steve liked the way Tony whined about paperwork and how he went absolutely giddy when he talked about tech. He liked the way Tony radiated cocky arrogance but stammered and flailed whenever offered any kind of heartfelt compliment. He liked (in an embarrassed, bashful kind of way) how Tony was so interested in his art, how he always asked about Steve’s day, how he answered any time it looked like Steve really needed him.

~.~.~

Like the night he’d woken up with explosions sounding in his ear, the chill of a night in the desert moving over his sweat-slicked skin and panic attempting to claw its way out of his chest. He’d hit the floor without even thinking, then army-crawled to one corner. Back to the wall and his knees drawn to his chest, Steve did his best to sort through what was real – was it hardwood and the edge of a carpet under his toes, or sand? Could he really hear shouting and the whizz of bullets, or was the night silent except for his ragged breathing and the distant sounds of the city? Was he really _there_ in his apartment, or was he still trapped in the middle of a war?

Once his thoughts had cleared enough to know he needed someone to ground him, Steve crawled his way back to the nightstand – even if he was reasonably sure there weren’t any snipers lying in wait, he just couldn’t, absolutely _could not_ stand and make himself a target. After tugging the phone down into his hands via the charging cord, there was another tense standoff between his rational and instinct-driven sides; he wasn’t going to roll under the bed, because he wasn’t actually in danger. Except… it wouldn’t really hurt anything, and _fuck_ he didn’t know if he could focus enough to make the call if he wasn’t under some sort of cover. Swearing up a blue streak under his breath, he’d managed to wriggle his way under the frame of his large bed on his stomach, his back brushing the underside. With shaking fingers he’d unlocked his phone and called Tony, needing to hear his voice the same way his lungs had needed air – desperately.

“Stevie-kins! You never call this late. What’s up honey-toast?” Tony’d already sounded a little concerned, probably because it was true – Steve never called after eleven at night, even when he knew Tony was awake. A call at one in the morning was already a warning bell, but the choked sob of absolute relief that had been the first thing he’d heard from Steve (besides perhaps the rasping, gasping attempts to get air) had the engineer’s voice sharpen with clear worry. “Shit. Steve, is something wrong? Are you okay? I can have the cops or an ambulance there in less than five minutes, babe. Is that what you need? JARVIS-”

“No,” Steve had managed, some of the fear bleeding out of him – Tony was there, and he hadn’t known Tony when he was at ware, and Tony _cared_. “’M fine. Need… need…” The words wouldn’t come, and panic had surged again, wrapping itself tightly around his lungs until it had felt almost like he was having an asthma attack.

“What you need is to breathe.” The rescue had been very welcome, and Steve had whimpered in agreement. Seeming to understand that he just couldn’t just then, Tony had launched another immediately. “My shrinks were all terrible, but one of them taught me this thing, it helps. Only thing they ever gave me that does. So we’re gonna breathe together and I’ll count, okay? Just follow me as best you can babe. Okay. We’ve got this, and we’re okay, right? Okay. In… two… three… four... hold… two… three… four…” Tony’d walked him through four square breathing in a calm, confident voice and had given Steve something to focus on besides the terror and the sounds of a battlefield he would swear were still echoing in his other ear. For almost twenty minutes, that was all that happened – Tony had counted, and Steve had breathed along. It wasn’t until Steve had been able to start counting along that they’d allowed the exercise to taper off, and then there had come a long, long period of silence.

“Tony, I- I’m so sorry. I couldn’t… I didn’t mean to- ”

“Hey,” Tony had interrupted, voice so sweet and soft it’d made Steve heart ache as he brushed the remaining moisture off his cheeks. “Don’t apologize for that. Not ever. You’re… we’re friends. You keep me from drinking, and I’ll help you breathe when you forget how.” The joke should have fallen flat; what it had accomplished instead was to draw a strangled laugh from Steve, and the tension between them snapped. “Do you… wanna talk about it, love muffin? I’m here if you do, but I won’t make you. Whatever you need, honey-toast.”

“What’s DUM-E doing?” And Tony had done it, springing into a wildly dramatic tale of the bot’s most recent exploits, until Steve had almost been able to forget the way he’d woken up. It wasn’t until after the end of that story that the sounds of tinkering – usually present for the duration of any talk with Tony – started up. Tony had put his work aside, and that was when Steve knew it. 

Tony was just as invested in their relationship – whether friendship or something more – as Steve was.

They were in this crazy thing together.

~.~.~

After that episode, things had gotten a little more intense, which Steve hadn’t thought possible. Now they were sending each other pictures, though not of faces yet. Tony got pictures of Steve’s messy artist hands, a few more teasing shots of his feet, and several more where his abs had a guest-starring role alongside whatever he (ostensibly) was actually trying to show the man. And now Steve knew what Tony’s hands looked like, and _fuck_ but that picture had made him swoon a little.

Slender and riddled with the callouses and little scars earned by a working man, Tony’s hands were a work of art. Steve couldn’t help but draw them over and over, and had even done a sketch of one of those gorgeous hands entwined with one of his, their fingers tangled together. Tony called him a sap when Steve sent him a picture, but Steve new he was actually very pleased with the gesture. He _didn’t_ tell Tony that he imagined those hands on him now, touching his skin, caressing and teasing… Tony didn’t need any added incentive to flirt outrageously, after all. He didn’t need to know that all Steve needed lately to get himself off was the thought of Tony’s beautiful hands and the remembered sound of Tony’s smooth voice. No, information like that would be far too dangerous in Tony’s possession, and this… thing between them was already driving Steve half-crazy.

Mostly because half of what they did anymore was flirt – the both of them, though Tony was a lot more daring and forward about it. Steve tried his best to give as good as he got, but they both knew he was easier to fluster than the other, at least most of the time. Endearments he could handle pretty well – Tony was sweetheart exclusively, while he was still inundated with nicknames, babe and honey-toast being the most common – and when he was in the right mood Steve could make Tony stutter and come to a complete halt. It was rare, but Steve got such a rush when it happened… not in small part because when Tony got himself back under control, he could be _wicked_.

_“Babe, when you talk about getting sweaty like that, all I can think about is tracing my tongue over those abs of yours to help you get clean.”_

_“I never really saw the appeal of popsicles before, but you’ve converted me – sure they get me a little messy and sticky, but it’s worth it. Great practice for other things too. Thanks for the recommendation on flavors, honey-toast. I think of you while I’m licking them.”_

_“Steve, if I ask you come over it won’t be to make me dinner. It’ll be to get a very thorough and lengthy tour of my bed. Not that I think about it much. Or in the shower. Definitely not in the shower, or while picturing your hands and your abs and how good it would be to meet you. … babe, I gotta go take a shower, talk to you later.”_

Those and any number of maddening things were tossed Steve’s way daily via texts and phone calls. He suddenly found himself very, very glad that there were enough rooms in the new house for him to have his own. His friends teased him enough over Tony; they didn’t need to watch him pop boners almost every time they talked longer than ten minutes.

Clint and Bucky especially were relentless in their campaign to embarrass Steve, while Maria offered only her support and Nat switched sides whenever it suited her. He knew that they all talked to Tony too – mostly Clint, who had acres of time in which to harass others, and Maria, who was bored out of her mind whenever Nat refused to let her do any work while in bed. It was really nice, to know that Tony’s support system was widening, and he was pretty sure the engineer was using it. Bucky in particular had come over one day, frowning mightily over whether or not he’d said the right thing when Tony confessed a need to drink; since to their knowledge he hadn’t given in, the two friends decided he’d done his best and it had probably been enough.

Two weeks before the phone call that set his almost perfect world to unravelling, Steve finally got his first introduction to Tony’s small tribe.

~.~.~

“Hello? Steve Rogers speaking.”

“Steven Grant Rogers? Sergeant Steven Grant Rogers?” The voice on the other end of the unknown number had been _much_ less pleasant than Tony’s, even when the engineer was at his crankiest. The level of hostility Steve had been able to read had his hackles raising instantly, but he’d fought to keep himself calm and even until he could find out what the problem was.

“That’s me, though I’m not in any more.”

“Honorable discharge though, from what I’m reading.” Steve had felt his back go stiff, and he had to consciously ease his grip on his phone so he wouldn’t crack it.

“ _Reading_ , sir?”

“I took the liberty of pulling your file. Impressive service record. You could have been career military. Why didn’t you sign up for another tour, Sergeant?”

“Don’t see why I oughta discuss that with someone who ain’t even given me their name,” Steve’d answered, allowing his accent to do what it willed. “Sir.” That had been added after a long, obvious pause, and Steve had suddenly really, really hoped he wasn’t in trouble for something, since he hadn’t had the slightest idea what the hell was going on.

“Colonel James Rhodes, US Air Force.”

“Ah.”

“Mm. So your file. Why’d you leave, Sergeant?”

“Do you pull files on every new friend Tony makes?”

“Only when he texts me about them non-stop while I’m in an active warzone. I was already curious, and then I found pictures of your abs on his phone, and he tells me you have some videos of DUM-E. He also tells me that he’s talking to all your friends. Added all together, I’m a little concerned for my friend, Sergeant. He’s not acting like himself, and I want to know why. Now answer the damn question before I get testy.” If that hadn’t been Rhodey being ‘testy’, Steve never wanted to see him _actually_ angry.

“I didn’t want a career in the military, sir. I signed up and did my duty to the best of my ability, but I had… I had someone waiting at home who needed me.”

“Fiancé? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Lover?” Rhodey’s voice had been sharp enough to cut, and Steve had winced at every one.

“What? No! Buc… er, Barnes. James Buchannon Barnes – I’m sure you pulled his file too-”

“It’s possible.”

“Well he’n I went in together. Sir. He got blown all to hell, and I couldn’t be there for him like he needed me to be. I followed orders like a good little soldier, and he sat in a hospital alone for almost three months – I got to visit him _twice_. Sir. When he got shipped home, he struggled – alone again – for almost another year before my time was up. With all due respect, sir, my friend needed me more’n the army did. Never had any interest in makin’ Captain or movin’ up the ranks, not with him sittin’ at home without one-a his arms. Sir.”

“Hm.”

“Is that all? Sir?”

“First off, son, you can stop saying ‘sir’ like that.”

“Well I’d hate to be disrespectful, sir.”

“I can see that.” There had been just a tiny hint of amusement in Rhodey’s voice, and Steve’d let himself relax a little on hearing it. “Look, Rogers-”

“Steve.”

“Steve. Tony is my best friend. We don’t always see eye-to-eye, but that doesn’t really matter – I’m sure you know that.”

“I do.”

“People have taken advantage of him in the past, Steve, and I don’t like that. I don’t like that some guy he’s never even met is somehow taking over his brain. I don’t like that he talks to you and your friends more than he talks to me.”

“You’re deployed, sir, to the best of my knowledge. Contact with you is limited, and sometimes I think he needs more’n you can give right now.”

“Listen here you little shit,” Rhodey’d answered, the dangerous edge back full force, voice almost a snarl. “For years, I was all he had. I know who he is and what he needs better than some random guy he dialed at the ass-crack of dawn because he was bored. I know I can’t tell Tony what to do – Lord knows that man makes questionable choices. I’m not even going to threaten you or your friends, Sergeant, because I don’t think it would do any good. But what I _will_ say is that I’m watching you. I’d think real long and hard about what you want out of Tony, and if you’re fucking with him or using him, I’d suggest you gently get the hell out of his life pretty much now. This is the only chance I’ll give you. From here on out, I’m watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Yessir.” Steve hadn’t protested Rhodey’s assumptions, because that wouldn’t have convinced Rhodey. It would be easier to prove himself over time by sticking it out – the other man would come around. Still, there was one thing he’d felt might help make his case. “Sir?”

“Sergeant?”

“If I’m reading this right, Tony is your Bucky, in a way. I’ll treat your best friend with the same courtesy I’d expect you to give mine.”

“I hope you’re not asking me to send pictures of my abs to this Bucky person.” Thank God the humor had come back, and Steve was pretty sure this would end up alright.

“No! God no. I don’t need him pining after someone he can’t get in touch with most of the time. If you ever retire, Colonel, then you can flirt with Bucky as much as you want.”

“Hm. Watching you, Rogers. Never forget that I’m watching you.”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to have someone hang up on him in his entire life.

~.~.~

Since _that_ phone call, Steve hadn’t really talked to Rhodey again… but every once in a while, an ominous ‘watching you’ text would pop up on his phone, always from a different number. He especially hated when, along with the words, there was a picture of him that had clearly been taken only moments before.

Rhodey was fucking scary.

Steve hadn’t told Tony about any of it, figuring it was better that way – he didn’t think his engineer would be too happy with Rhodey’s interference, and it wasn’t worth any argument that might spring up. If this ever became… serious, this thing between him, he figured that would be when he’d spill the beans. Though he didn’t know how much more serious it could get without them meeting. Steve’d already been turning down dates because he didn’t really want anyone but Tony, and he only knew what the man’s hands looked like. He was pretty sure that if he ever got to see the whole package, he’d be a goner. Trying to convince Tony to meet up though was like pulling teeth, but Steve dropped hints every time they spoke. Unlike the engineer, Steve was absolutely sure that them getting to talk face-to-face would ruin a damn thing between them.

Sure he hadn’t gotten to talk to Bruce or Pepper yet, and sure he didn’t even know if they knew about him, but he was sure that would come in time. They were in this thing together, and until Tony told him that he wanted out, Steve was going to be there.

Then, on a Tuesday at two in the morning, Steve’s phone rang.

~.~.~

“Clint?”

“Steve, there’s… you gotta come.” The panic in Clint’s voice had Steve sitting upright in bed instantly, on full alert.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… Maria. It’s… it’s bad Steve. Nat’s freaking out, and I… we need you.” As soon as he heard the word ‘Maria’, Steve was out of bed and striding towards his dresser so he could pull on a shirt and some pants. “The doctors won’t say anything yet, and Nat is… Steve, you gotta get here.”

“Which hospital?” He half-listened as Clint rattled off the address, already slipping into his boots before heading to the closet for his jacket and the bag he’d had packed since the day Maria had been put on bed rest. Some people would call him a pessimist or even a bringer of bad luck, but Steve knew he was someone who just liked to be prepared. He didn’t know what ‘bad’ might mean, but they were probably going to be there for a few hours at the very least – Nat would appreciate the change of clothes, because she wasn’t going to leave until Maria was alright again, which she absolutely would be. Everyone would appreciate the snacks and the few distractions he’d packed away if they had to stay there too long. This way they could all stay together at the hospital for a while, instead of needing to splinter off to take care of the most basic necessities. When Clint had gone quiet again, Steve was halfway through his apartment, staving off his own panic by the sheer virtue of knowing the rest of his brood _needed_ him to be calm and in command of himself. “Did you call Bucky or do you want me to do it?”

“Can… can you? Look, Nat’s in a real bad place, and I gotta-”

“You just worry about our girl for now, Clint. I’ll take care of the rest. Just hold it together until we get there, okay? We’re on our way. Just… just try to keep Nat from going red, okay?”

“I… yeah. Okay. I can do that. Steve? _Hurry_.”

Once he was on his motorcycle, Steve made the call to Bucky. The other man began cussing almost violently, and Steve didn’t have the time to talk him down completely. He thought he heard another voice in the background, but chalked it up to being the TV. After telling Bucky firmly, with no room for disobedience, to take some deep breaths and get himself under control before he got behind the wheel, Steve was off, racing through the streets as fast as he dared. It wasn’t until he got to the hospital parking lot that he realized he’d forgotten his helmet.

~.~.~

“She’s my WIFE!” Steve would recognize Nat’s voice anywhere, even if the edge of hysteria he could hear in it was completely new. Under that was rage, and before he could even tell himself to speed up, Steve was already running down the corridor as fast as his long legs could carry him, headed for the emergency waiting room. “I need to be in there with her, you stupid bitch. Get out of my way before I _make_ you.”

“Ma’am, we’ve told you the policy on that several times, and I need you to cal-” The nurse never got to finish her attempt to soothe, and Steve was almost too late. He had just enough time to notice the way Nat was bone-white and struggling against Clint’s hold, eyes blazing like coals in her face and a wash of rust-red covering her legs – blood, he realized. Thankfully he didn’t have a lot of time to process that stomach-churning thought, because Nat had reached her breaking point. With a shriek of pure fury, she broke away from their friend and lunged… and Steve only just caught her waist with one strong arm. The red-head didn’t even try to keep going for the nurse – wasted effort, with no payoff and no lessoning of her devastation.

Instead she turned on Steve, like he’d been half-sure she would. He grunted as she stomped on his instep and only just evaded an elbow to his solar plexus; she still managed to clip his side, and he knew that was going to hurt like a son of a gun once his own adrenaline was down. He didn’t let her go, however, reeling her in closer as she fought against him and managed to turn in his arms. For his trouble, he got a punch to his left eye that had him stumbling backwards, only just keeping them both upright. Settling his mouth in a grim line, he pulled her even closer, praying that Clint could keep the security guards off them until he could get her calmed the fuck down. He had one arm pinned to her side, but the left came at his face again, this time thrusting up into his nose and- “FUCK.” 

Broken, definitely broken, but that didn’t matter.

Ignoring the pain and the way he had blood streaming down his face, Steve wrestled for control of Nat’s free arm, and eventually got it. Once she couldn’t hit him anymore – though her kicks more than made up for it, and his legs would have bruises to match his eyes – he just pulled her close and put his mouth to her ear.

“I’ve got you, Natasha,” he crooned, drawing a snarl out of her. He paid it no mind, just like he was ignoring the frightened nurse, the way the rest of the rooms occupants were staring, and the way there were three burly guards trying to edge around Clint to get to them. “It’s Steve. I’m here, and I have you.”

He held her as tightly as he dared, letting her feel his (mostly) steady heartbeat against hers, letting her feel the way his breath was still even. In her ear he kept whispering soothing nothings, letting her slowly remember who he was, who _she_ was, and helping her get her rage under control. When he heard her breath catch in her throat and she started to sob, he knew the worst of it was over. Still ignoring everything else, he dragged her carefully to one of the padded benches in the room and sat, pulling her into his lap. Tucking her face against his neck, the strongest woman he’d ever met wept freely, because her heart was breaking and taking his along with it.

He felt Clint settle next to them, his hand going instantly to Nat’s back; they all could feel the way he was shaking from both an adrenaline crash and helplessness. Sometimes he could hold his best friend tight enough to keep her from falling apart; sometimes she needed Steve to keep her together until they were all sure she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Steve knew Clint was blaming herself for not being able to this time, and later he would try to talk the man through it. For now, though, he just freed one arm and pulled Clint into his side so they could all huddle together, bracing for the storm that was on the horizon.

_Please let them make it,_ Steve begged the God he wasn’t always sure he believed existed. _Please get Maria and the baby through this… I don’t think we can survive if they don’t…_

When the nurse approached a few minutes later to lay a bag of ice and a packet of ibuprofen on the other side of Clint, Steve looked over and gave her a nod that was part gratitude, part apology. The bleeding had already stopped, so the break probably wasn’t too bad, and he didn’t have any hands free to ice it – Clint did grab and open the packet for him though, and Steve swallowed the two pills in it dry. He could have asked the man to give him some space, but instead he gathered them both closer and settled in to wait.

He hoped like hell that Bucky would get there soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag: possible miscarriage and possible character death. At this point it isn't clear what's going on with Maria and the baby, so if you're super sensitive to this sort of thing, brace yourself or maybe skip out on the next couple chapters. I won't be going into anything in super detail, so most of it will be fairly vague, but it's going to be present. Do what you gotta do for you! <3
> 
> Brief Rhodey appearance! Yay! He'll be around more later, to harangue Steve in person. But as he was on leave for a couple days and learned _all about_ Steve from Tony, I figured it wouldn't be like him to just ignore the situation. 
> 
> Hng. This was a weird chapter to write - I knew where I wanted to be, but I didn't want to take six more chapters to get there. I hope this was an okay middle-ground, because it was all I could think of that wasn't a straight skip or a too-drawn out thing. 
> 
> Also! Tony will be showing up soon, and then this fic will be winding down. I have possible plans to continue in this universe though... possibly with a focus on other characters? I have this weird urge to have Clint and Darcy meet and hit it off, which would bring Thor and Jane and their relationship into the mix. Not quite sure what I want to do with Bucky yet (Sam? Rhodey? Someone else that someone suggests??), and I also sorta want to go into Pepper and Bruce's complicated relationship. Thoughts? Would anyone be interested in me playing around in this AU more?
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and please comment!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Maria in the hospital, Steve worries about the future of his family. Thankfully, he doesn't have to do it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> Gotta be honest, I was not at all expecting to be posting this soon, but... I need to start my NaNo stuff, and this next chapter would NOT get out of my head and out of the way enough that I could do that effectively. So I had to write this down first - glad I did, because I got just about all of it down on actual paper, which for some reason always makes me feel happier and more confident about quality. XD Probably because I kind of edit as I type it up, and instead of doing it to a portion of the chapter, I got to do it with the whole thing! Of course, it's un-beta'd, so there's still probably a crap-ton of errors.
> 
> Fair warning that November might or might not be another dry month - I want to finish NaNo this year, so I have to focus on that. I tend to feel guilty for some reason if my chapters are less than 3k words (this beast is 5.6k and I still feel like I should add more), which is pretty much two days worth of NaNo writing. Would you guys prefer shorter chapters that I could maybe post more often, or are longer chapters better? What do you think?
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and please leave comments! I love comments!

“You brought your fucking _date_?”

“He’s not my date!”

“I’m not his date.”

They’d answered Clint’s accusing hiss at the same time, so Steve was reasonably sure they were telling the truth. Bucky’s tone of voice had been hostile, so he reached out and clasped his friend’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze of reassurance. At the same time, he was assessing the man who’d accompanied him, wondering why the man was there. He was handsome enough, Steve decided, with dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. When he offered a smile, there was a slight gap between his two front teeth that added a certain charm to the expression.

“Sam Wilson,” he introduced, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Bucky and I were at group together earlier, and I was… having a hard day. He let me come over to hang so I didn’t have to be alone; now I’m returning the favor, for a little while at least. Consider me your gopher, alright? Whatever you guys need, I’m there – food, coffee, water, blankets… whatever you need.” There was sincere concern in Sam’s expression, which Steve appreciated. And he supposed it _would_ be nice to have someone to help him take care of everyone for a little while. All of that was well and good, but…

“Sam? You’re Sam-Sam? _Group_ -Sam? We’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.” Bucky actually flushed under Steve’s gaze, probably from guilt over all the awful things he’d said about Sam. That had Steve rolling his eyes as he held his hand out for Sam to shake; the man returned the gesture, nodded to a still-suspicious Clint, and didn’t even try to force Natasha to acknowledge him. She was burrowed against Clint’s side as she filled out paperwork; Steve appreciated Sam’s instinct to let her be – she didn’t need anything else pulling at her attention. She looked better, at least, her blood-stained pajama pants replaced by the clean, soft ones Steve had brought with him. Still, she was pale and wide-eyed, and she’d chewed her lower lip enough that it bled sluggishly from a crack in the center. They’d been moved to a different (and slightly more comfortable and private) waiting room, but they still knew almost nothing.

Maria was stable (for the moment, the doctor who spoke to them had added tiredly) and the baby hadn’t been miscarried (the ‘yet’ was unspoken but still heard loud and devastatingly clear). The staff were running tests, and the group wasn’t allowed to see her yet, and the doctor had added, very quietly and gently, that Natasha might have some very difficult choices ahead – namely if Maria or the baby was the priority if they could save only one. In deference to the terrible occasion, they were all keeping close to the red head, but staying quiet, offering their love and support silently. Bucky settled on Nat’s free side, draping an arm over both her and Clint while Steve caught Sam’s eye and then nodded to the door. “Let me show you where some of the vending machines are. I need to use the restroom anyway, and they’re close to it.”

Without a word, Sam followed him, throwing one concerned glance to the group on the couch as they walked. Steve took him to the vending machines, but didn’t continue on his way. He paused in front of the machine that delivered drinks, checking out the options while he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. Sam beat him to the punch after letting out a quiet sigh.

“Look man, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t let Bucky drive here. He’d have gotten himself killed or pulled over. In a little while I’ll call a cab and get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for getting him here in one piece. He’s not always the best at driving when he’s… upset.”

“I could tell. He put a hole in the wall after you hung up.” Steve sighed heavily, because _of course_ he had. “Looks like someone else tried to put a hole in you, Steve. You good?”

Wincing, Steve lifted a hand to his nose – he was pretty sure he looked terrible, since it was swollen and both eyes had to be black and blue. At least he’d cleaned off the blood. “Yeah. I’m fine. Nat just… had a moment. Better me than some poor nurse, and I got her calmed down so they didn’t throw her out or sedate her. She needs to be here, so I don’t mind taking a few hits to make sure that happens. Now. Take her a thing of coffee,” he instructed, gesturing at the coffee dispensing machine before grabbing his wallet and grabbing two fives to hand over. “Bucky’ll take a Pepsi, and Clint’d prefer water to anything they got here. I brought snacks, so don’t waste the money on this shit. If you’re hungry, you can have some too. Get a drink for yourself as well, if you want. Uh… I mean, if you think you can carry it all at the same time.”

“Had tougher missions than this. I think I’ll be alright.” There was a long pause as Sam punched in the proper codes for the drinks, and then he was staring at Steve. “Look, man, don’t take this the wrong way, but… have you had a second to yourself yet?”

“What?”

“I’ve heard about you. Bucky says you’re always taking care of everybody. So who’s taking care of you right now?”

“Me? I can take care of myself.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Look, Nat had her ‘moment’, and so did Bucky. Guessing that other guy did too. Take your moment to freak out, Steve. You need one just as much as everyone else. I’m taking this stuff back to ‘em, and I can watch over ‘em all for a couple minutes. So take some time, ‘cause you look like shit man.”

“I don’t know,” Steve hedged, running his fingers through his hair. A second to breathe, to let himself fall apart just a little would be nice, but his _people_ were in pain, and he couldn’t just _leave_ them. He couldn’t just trust them to some guy he didn’t even really know. Bucky knew him though, and as much as his best friend bitched about the man in front of him, he never tried to avoid him. Hell, he’d invited Sam over for however the hell long they’d been together, so maybe… maybe Sam was okay. Maybe he could take that moment.

“Hey, I get it man. _Believe me_ , I get why you want to stay with them. But you all might be here for a while, right? So take a minute or two now, while everything is as calm as it’s probably gonna get. Sound good?”

“I… a little, yeah.” God, he felt guilty just admitting that much. His usual, knee-jerk reaction to such guilt was to overcompensate in the opposite direction and completely smother his little brood. But Sam had a point, and he really, really could use just a little time to himself, where he could freak out without affecting the others. He needed just a second to fall apart. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that, if you really don’t mind keeping an eye on them. Bucky gets twitchy in hospitals, so watch for that – we don’t need him punching anyone. Clint’s pretty wrapped up in Nat, but he might try to give you trouble. Just ignore him, and I’ll talk to him about it later. Just leave Nat alone. Oh, tell Bucky that there’s a couple books in my bag, and snacks too. And if Na-.”

“Steve. We’re gonna be okay. You’re not leaving the country or even the hospital, right?”

“I… no.”

“I was pararescue, man. I get the urge to protect – I can take care of them for a couple minutes.” Suddenly, Steve felt a lot better about this whole thing, and sent Sam a look full of gratitude.

“Okay. Thanks. If anything changes – _anything_ \- have Bucky text me.”

“Absolutely. Get yourself something to drink before you come back, alright? You gotta keep your strength up as much as anybody else.” Steve murmured his agreement, watched Sam get all three drinks settled carefully so they wouldn’t drop or spill, and then the man headed back to the waiting room with a firm, determined stride. He was taking this seriously, so Steve could take a minute. He stared down the hallway a few heartbeats longer, then turned to put his back to the wall, slowly sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. God, this was all so fucked up. They’d been so happy, and things had been going so well, and this was so _un-fucking-fair_.

Steve didn’t remember reaching for his phone, didn’t remember finding Tony’s name and pressing the green telephone icon. Despite that lapse in memory, he was holding his cell to his ear and it was ringing, and he knew exactly who he was trying to get ahold of.

“Please pick up, please pick up… Tony?” Steve was pretty sure he sounded pathetic when he said the man’s name, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Steve! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight babe.” Tony didn’t seem to be registering anything was amiss right away; maybe it was the noise surrounding him. Steve could hear music and the din of a large crowd socializing, and a memory clicked into place. _God_ he was such an idiot. Tony had been stressing over this stupid work function for a week, mainly because it was being held at _Pepper’s_ new house, and he _had_ to go even though he didn’t want to and he’d begged to be let off, and Steve shouldn’t have called. Just as he was about to make his excuse and hang up, Tony spoke again. “Wait. It’s after midnight here, so where you are… Steve? What’s wrong?” The instant change in his voice made something in Steve’s chest clench, because he sounded so soft, so worried, so genuinely invested in Steve’s well-being, and he wanted to cry. “Babe? Talk to me. Do you need me to count again?”

“N-no.” Steve whispered, feeling tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He wanted to fall apart so badly, wanted to weep and wail and gnash his teeth at the horror of it all. Sam was right – he needed it, so that he could be strong for everyone later, but… God, he didn’t want to do that to Tony. He couldn’t ask his sweetheart to try and put his pieces back together over the phone. No, he couldn’t do that. Not to Tony who was still calmly, patiently waiting for him to continue even though he _hated_ waiting; Tony who was clearly stepping away from the very, very important party just so he could give Steve his complete attention. “God, Tony. I shouldn’t have called. I just… I needed you, and I forgot about the party. I am so, so sorry. I can just ha-”

“Hey hey hey,” Tony interrupted soothingly. “You don’t ever forget stuff like that, so whatever this is, it’s pretty fucking important. And… I remember, you know. Texts mean that it can’t wait – a call means ‘I need you’. I will always answer when you call, babe. Now take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it.” Fuck. Tony was amazing, and Steve didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he was thankful for it all the same.

“I… it’s Maria.” He was going to continue, lay it all out there precisely and succinctly, because he could keep his head in a crisis. But now, with Tony there listening, he just… couldn’t. He couldn’t find that part of him, and all he wanted to do was sob and let Tony try to comfort him. His throat closed up as emotion threatened to choke him; thankfully, Tony stepped in and took control of the conversation.

“ **Fuck**. Is she…?”

“Stable. For the moment.”

“And… and the… the baby?”

“Still alive. Doc didn’t seem hopeful though.”

“Shit. Fuck. Okay. Nat?”

“Hanging in there.”

“You?” Steve’s laugh was more of a sob than anything else as he let his head thunk back against the wall.

“Falling the fuck to pieces at the moment. Jesus, Tony. Nat… when I first saw her she had blood all down her legs. It was… I can’t stop seeing it. Maria’s tough, but it was so much blood, and God, the _baby_. I don’t know what we’ll do if… if… Fuck. The doc told Nat she might… have to choose.”

“Fuck that.” Tony answered with great feeling, drawing another wet, painful laugh from Steve’s throat. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen, glitterbug. I’m in California, so it’ll take me about three hours to get there. No, plan on about four to be safe – no telling what traffic will be like.”

“Tony, you don’t have to-”

“I _want_ to. I can’t stay here while… no. Four hours, Steve. JARVIS, get the location of the hospital please, and draw up forms to… Steve?”

Flabbergasted by the idea of Tony flying all the way there just to be with them all, Steve couldn’t answer for a moment. When he finally managed it, even he could hear his dazed tone of voice. “It takes at least five and a half hours to fly from Cali to NYC.”

“Not the way I do it. Steve? Honey-toast? I… do you… do you trust me?” There was a heartbreaking hesitation in his voice, like he expected Steve to say _no_.

“With everything, sweetheart.”

“You’re… insane, but that’s good. Okay. In a couple of minutes, one of the nurses or maybe an administrator is going to bring Nat some more paperwork to sign. They’ll let me have access to everything – Maria’s medical history, details of her pregnancy, the tests they’re running now, all of it. It’ll be kept up to date as the doctors there proceed. I couldn’t do much with the information, but I _can_ pass it on to a doctor I know. She’s the best, Steve, and I want her on this, but I won’t involve her without Nat’s consent.”

“Tony, you can’t just tell the ‘best’ doctors to take on a case and expect them to drop everything and do it.”

“Watch me.” There was something hard in his voice now, something very close to desperation. “She’s _my_ friend too, babe. I can’t… I won’t let her go without a fight. So we bring in the Doc if Nat says ye- PEP!” Tony’s outraged exclamation should have been louder, so Pep had probably snatched his phone. Steve wasn’t really all that surprised when a cool, collected, female voice sounded in his ear.

“I don’t know who this is, but Tony is currently **very** busy.” Steve had no idea what Miss Pepper Potts looked like, but he’d wager money that she was sending Tony a death glare that would rival Natasha’s. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait until after this **extremely** important event is over.” She was right, and Steve knew it – he shouldn’t have called.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I… wasn’t thinking when I called him.”

“Oh. You’re not… I assumed… wait. Is this… is this Steve?” Some of the ice melted from her tone, but Steve was still pretty sure she was upset with him. Rightfully so.

“Yes ma’am. Tell Tony it’s alright, please, and that he doesn’t need to leave the party. He doesn’t need to come or send a doctor. We’ll be okay.” Except that throat-choking emotion was back, and his voice had wavered through every single word. It had even cracked toward the end, and Steve was absolutely sure she’d heard how very not okay he was.

“A doctor? Steve are you hurt? What happ-” The chill was gone from her voice completely, leaving it warm and smooth as honey. She’d cut herself off to listen to Tony, who Steve could vaguely hear. He was probably explaining. It was terrible of him, but Steve was thankful that he didn’t have to be the one to go through it all again. “Oh God. No, no, of course. I understand Tony – this is more important. I believe Helen is in North Carolina for a conference. She could probably be there before you. Do you want to take Bruce too? … I know he always says that, but he still- Steve?” It had been surprisingly nice, comforting even, to listen as the two spoke about the situation. For those few minutes, he wasn’t the one who needed to be calm and in charge; he didn’t need to have any of the answers. He could be upset and let them take just a little bit of the burden. He almost felt like he could breathe again.

“Ma’am?”

“Pepper, please. It feels like I know you already. I’m going to put Tony on a jet directly, and I’ll try to talk Bruce into going as well. He’s not really a medical doctor, but he _is_ a genius, and he and Dr. Cho work well together. They’ll be able to figure this out if anyone can.”

“Yes ma… Pepper. Pepper, we don’t… we can’t… the hospital is already so expen-”

“If you’re about to worry about money, don’t. It won’t be an issue, I promise. Let us help Steve, please. Tony… you’re all so important to him. He talks about you and your friends all the time. You’ve been so good for him… and that makes you all very important to me. Now. I’m going to have Tony give me your number, and I’ll be in touch shortly so you have mine. You call me if you need _anything_ before he lands. Or after. Even if it’s just a friendly voice. I mean it, Steve. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Pepper. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Good boy. I’m giving the phone back to Tony. He’ll be there soon, Steve, and between Dr. Cho and Bruce, it _will_ be alright.” Before Steve could choke out a thank you, Tony was back. Later, he vowed, he was going to send Miss Pepper Potts some flowers.

“Okay. JARVIS and I have everything set on our end. You go get Nat to sign those papers, okay? I’ll have Cho there as soon as possible.”

“I… Tony. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me, babe. Not for something like this.”

“Tony, sweetheart,”

“No. No ‘thank you’s. Four hours or less, babe. I’m on my way.”

~.~.~

Getting Nat to sign the forms was easy – he mentioned Tony was calling a doctor in, a good one, and that was all she needed. Hope was something they’d all been looking for, and that’s what Tony was giving them. For a while after she signed thought, nothing really changed. Sam left, Steve got a few updates from Pepper, and they all coaxed Nat into eating something; everything else was the same. Time passed without any real news – only two brief walk-by talks with the doctor, where they were informed Maria was still stable. Two and a half hours later, Steve was wondering if he shouldn’t try to send Clint and Bucky home for a while to get some real sleep. Nat wouldn’t leave, of course, but maybe the rest of them could take shifts. If he stayed now, he’d be at the hospital when Tony arrived, and then a couple hours later they could go take a rest. Not necessarily together, of course, but… well. First he would have to convince Clint and Bucky to go.

As he was working out a strategy, there was a sudden flurry of activity by the door. A woman seemed to be the epicenter, with a gaggle of nurses and several doctors trailing after and around her. She wasn’t wearing scrubs, but a rather sleek and elegant black dress that looked just a little rumpled. If he weren’t hearing ‘Dr. Cho’ being repeated over and over again by several different mouths, he wouldn’t have guessed the woman was a doctor; he’d have assumed she was some wealthy woman there because someone she was close to got injured.

She paused in the middle of the waiting room, eyes sweeping over it to take everyone in before she zeroed in on their group. Steve was up and out of his seat the moment she started their way, eager to greet her. His friends followed his lead, Nat gripping Clint’s arm hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The woman was now holding eye-contact with Nat, ignoring her ‘fans’ as they continued to bustle around her, trying to grab her attention. It was incredibly reassuring, knowing that they had Dr. Cho’s complete focus at their disposal.

“Mrs. Romanov?” Her voice wasn’t warm with affection and concern like Tony’s and Pepper’s had been, but there was still something incredibly soothing about it. Maybe it was the confidence she radiated, or the way she sounded direct without coming off clipped and cold. Maybe it was that parcel of professionals behind her that were practically ready to worship her, clearly thinking her more than competent at what she did. Whatever it was, there was a noticeable loss of tension within Steve’s brood, and within Steve himself.

“Dr. Cho?” It was the first time Nat had spoken aloud since her outburst – she’d been communicating exclusively with sign language, hands shaking continuously, leaving the others to translate. She sounded _destroyed_ now that she’d broken her silence, but… there was a small note of hope buried deep as well.

“Yes.” Now the doctor gave Nat a small, reassuring smile that also helped Steve relax even more. “Tony forwarded everything, and I have a few ideas already. Nothing solid yet, so I can’t form an actual hypothesis that I could share at the moment. The tests I want to run will give me a clearer picture, and by the time most of them are done Dr. Banner should be here. Together we’ll figure out what we’re up against and plot a course of action. They’re setting up some of my equipment now, so I thought I would come introduce myself and see if you have any questions for me.”

“No. Please…” Suddenly Nat stepped forward and took hold of Dr. Cho’s hands. She didn’t have them in a death grip like she had poor Clint’s arm – she wasn’t even really squeezing at all. She was cradling the hands that would try to save her wife and child gently, like they were something precious, bestowing her blessing on Dr. Cho even as she begged for her own salvation. “Please help them. I can’t… I _can’t_.”

“I understand, Mrs. Romanov. I promise Banner and I will do our best. I’ll inform you the moment I have something.” Dr. Cho gave Nat’s hand a light squeeze, then drew away. Within seconds she was gone, vanished behind the double doors into a part of the hospital where they couldn’t follow.

Like a puppet cut from its strings, Nat fell back into her seat and hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Clint was instantly at her side, one arm wrapping around her tightly. Bucky plopped down on her other side, draping his arm over both of them once more. They’d been rotating, the men switching seats every so often so everyone felt included and _safe_ , Natasha always in the middle of their cuddle pile. With his seat next to the woman taken, he decided to sit down next to Bucky for a while. His friend looked incredibly tense – he _hated_ hospitals – so he wrapped both arms around him and squeezed, snuggling close.

Silence fell over the group again, and Steve let his eyes drift to the TV on the wall opposite them. He could spend the next chunk of time pretending he cared about the news.

~.~.~

An hour later, Steve was watching the entryway to the waiting room more than the TV. Tony would be there soon - _Tony_. It was such a shitty situation, and he hated that they’d meet for the first time like this, but… but it was Tony. He couldn’t help the little flutters of excitement rippling in his stomach. Pepper had texted a little while ago to let him know that Tony had landed – how the hell he’d made the trip so fast Steve didn’t know. Soon he’d walk through that door and – 

And just then, someone entered, and for a second Steve’s heart stopped and then began to pound painfully… but it was a woman, not Tony, flooding his veins with disappointment. Sighing softly, he forced his attention elsewhere, looking over at his brood to distract himself. Clint was sleeping, his head pillowed on Nat’s shoulder and his hearing aids tucked safely into Steve’s bag. She was still wide-awake, staring at nothing, her head atop Clint’s as her fingers stroked through his hair. Bucking was too on edge to relax into the cuddle-pile now; he’d been sitting and doing nothing for too long, not giving his anxiety any kind of outlet. His flesh fingers were tap-tap-tapping on one knee, while the other leg twitched regularly in an aborted desire to bounce. 

“Hey, Buck,” he murmured softly, not wanting to disturb Nat; gently, he settled a hand over Bucky’s restless one and gave a soft squeeze. “Do you need to take a walk?”

“Gotta stay here.”

“You sure? Cafeteria is serving breakfast now. Maybe you could go grab us some real food and get some energy out at the same time.”

“… I should stay here. Shouldn’ I, Stevie?” He sounded lost, and Steve _hated_ when that happened.

“I think,” he started slowly, choosing his words with care. “That you are the only one – besides Nat – who hasn’t moved from this room. I can feel you crawling inside your skin, jerk. Go take a walk and get me some damn food. Some for the rest of you too, of course.”

“With what, punk? My good looks? That’d only earn enough food for me.”

Pretending to be irritated with his best friend, Steve fished his wallet out of his back pocket, then handed over a twenty. “There. Go crazy with the food purchasing.”

“Thanks Stevie. Be back soon.”

Once he was gone – and Steve was ridiculously proud of himself for not using his exit as an excuse to look to the doorway again – Steve slid into the spot on the couch he’d vacated. Just as Nat was playing with Clint’s hair, he started to stroke hers, offering what little comfort he could. She turned a tiny smile his way, reaching out with her free hand to trace the tip of her index finger down his nose. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispered, seeming begrudging to give the world her words when Maria couldn’t have them.

“It isn’t that bad – we both know you could have done a lot worse.” Leaning in, he brushed a kiss to her temple, closing his eyes and breathing in the fading scent of her shampoo. “Thank you for trusting me enough to calm down.” She didn’t answer, but offered him another small smile before closing her eyes. Steve wasn’t optimistic enough to hope she would actually sleep, but at least she wasn’t wearing the thousand-yard stare anymore. Wrapped up in his worry for her, he didn’t realize someone was approaching until he saw shoes come to a stop just inside his field of vision and linger.

They were very nice dress shoes that gave way to a pair of black trousers that Steve thought draped _very_ well, clinging in all the right places – they’d probably been criminally expensive and custom-tailored. The belt that came next was similarly tasteful and more quietly costly, and Steve was starting to get a little nervous about this smartly dressed man who was almost certainly Tony. He wouldn’t have pegged Tony as the type to wear a leather motorcycle jacket – the bold, vibrant, hot-rod red shirt underneath was _entirely_ in character – but he was wearing one. It was black and fit perfectly, with the kind of detail work Steve would have killed to be able to afford last time he’d splurged on a motorcycle jacket. Every stitch of clothing on this man who was probably his Tony whispered of real wealth, and _fuck_ who had he even been talking to these last couple of months?

Maybe some of those thoughts showed in his expression, or maybe Tony was anticipating that or an even worse reaction, because he looked nervous. Nervous bordering on terrified, which was endearingly ridiculous. This was still Tony, after all, even if he had probably a lot more money than Steve had ever even thought to imagine. His gorgeous hands – which were fidgeting with an expensive looking pair of sunglasses - were no longer his favorite physical part of Tony. Not when he had the most beautiful pair of brown eyes Steve had ever seen. Beautiful and expressive; he was pretty sure he could read every emotion Tony was feeling in their depths. There was that nervous/terror, concern, awe, excitement… God, it was amazing what he could see in those eyes. The rest of his face was just as wonderful, even with the facial hair that really should have looked ridiculous and probably would on anyone else. His black hair had probably been artfully messy at one point, but it looked like he’d spent the last few hours tugging restlessly at the strands while trying to solve this problem.

The man was so beautiful that it _hurt_.

Belatedly, Steve realized that those perfect pink lips were forming words, and finally managed to tune in to the conversation Tony was having.

“-sent Bruce to Cho so they can start working. You can meet him later. Or not. You don’t have to. Steve? I hope this is you and I’m not making an ass out of myself in front of some poor random group of grieving, concerned visitors. I… if you’re upset I came and that’s why you’re not talking I’m, I’m sorry. Or if you’re, you know. Disappointed with… anything. I’m not exactly young and you’re… you’re so _wow_ even if it looks like you went a few rounds with Happy in the ring, and this is a terrible way to meet and I probably should have stayed-”

Steve knew he should say something to reassure Tony, but there was too much he wanted to say, and the rush of words was choking him. Tony was standing right in front of him, babbling nervously as he stared at Steve. It was Tony, who flirted and teased and talked to him. Who was trying so hard not to drink, who trusted Steve with snippets of his brilliant work and with his bot. Who’d dropped _everything_ to come here, who’d brought with him two people who might be able to save his family. _Tony_ , right there in front of him, close enough to touch.

That thought propelled him forward, though what he did was maybe not the most appropriate reaction he could have had. Any other time, he would have stood and offered a smile, a proper introduction and then maybe a hug… but just then, the idea of doing things properly barely occurred to him. Instead, he just reached out, slipping his hands under Tony’s jacket, feeling silk against his palms as they went to his back, reeling Tony close to him, between his legs. He felt the way Tony’s breath hitched, cutting off his nervous chatter; he felt Nat watching them and hoped he wasn’t pissing her off with this little display. Once Tony was close enough, Steve buried his face in the man’s stomach, balling up the back of that expensive shirt in his fists.

He’d sort of expected Tony to pull away or freeze, or make some stupid joke. He should have known better, because Tony didn’t even hesitate. He dropped that pair of sunglasses that had probably cost at least a hundred dollars like they were nothing. Then both his hands slid into Steve’s hair; one went to hold the back of his head while the other stroked and petted the locks. At that moment, it all hit Steve, and it hit him hard. All of the emotions that he’d been trying so hard to hold back so he could be strong for his people washed over him in a tidal wave, pulling him under. The few cracks that he’d allowed during the phone conversation with Tony and Pepper hadn’t been enough, and now he was stuck trying to process the frightening events of the evening AND the joy of having Tony with him. It was just too much, and before he knew it, Steve had begun to weep into red silk, feeling his entire body shake with the effort. One of Nat’s small, strong hands went to his back to rub soothing circles while Tony began to gently massage his scalp.

“I know babe,” he murmured softly, stepping a little closer. It was stupid of him, maybe, but Steve felt like Tony was offering him protection, shielding him with his body so he could have his breakdown hidden away from the world. Tony was being strong so he didn’t have to be, and it only made him cry harder. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you, honey-toast. Let it out. I’m here.”

Distantly, Steve thought that it was a really good thing he couldn’t talk just then. If he could form words, he’d probably do something crazy like ask Tony to marry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if any of the rest of you are doing NaNo and are registered on nanowrimo.org, feel free to add me as a writing buddy! Name on there is the same as it is on here. <3
> 
> I also has a Tumblr that is lame but sucks up too much of my time: [linku](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/) If anyone knows any tips and tricks to spiffy my space up, I'd appreciate it! It's plain and boring, but I'm afraid to screw it up by tinkering without guidance. XD
> 
> You're all awesome and thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is shorter than I wanted it to be, but I had absolutely _promised_ myself that I would get the next chapter of this fic up today. This is what I managed to get done, so... enjoy some slightly angsty shmoop? Next chapter will be full of actual plot development, I swear. Also in the beginning stages of planning out a fic that delves into Bruce and Pep's relationship, so that'll be coming out in the next week or so as well.
> 
> Please, please comment? I love them - they fuel my soooouuuul. <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

Steve had cried into Tony’s stomach for almost ten minutes; it didn’t take even a single second afterwards for him to regret doing so. It was such a fucked up situation, and to have _this_ be his first impression… it only added to the stress he was feeling. He was also pretty sure that no one would want to date someone who burst into tears and wept on their shirt during their initial meeting. Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem _too_ upset – or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.

Either way, when he’d pulled away – blushing from the shame of it all – Tony hadn’t said a word about it. He’d just plopped down net to Steve, then curled into his side like he belonged there. He fit, like it was where he’d always been meant to be, and some of the tension seeped out of Steve’s shoulders as the man fidgeted a little to get comfortable. Once settled, Tony greeted Nat in the same way he would have – no words, just a light brush of his fingers over her shoulder so she knew he was there. Clint received a small smile and – to Steve’s surprise – a signed ‘hello’. The archer returned the greeting in kind, grinning for just a second; he loved when people he met knew ASL.

Tony’s attention then returned back to him, and Steve found himself blushing again when the man put two slender fingers under his chin and pressed up, closing his mouth for him. The mortification that flooded his system might have made him run, but Tony’s mouth was in a soft, sweet smile and there was the faintest hint of a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t a complete disaster after all. Steve could feel every callous he’d studied from the photos he’d received moving over his own skin as the other man slid those slender, beautiful fingers up his jaw. He recognized the way Tony was cataloguing him, taking him in… making this _real_. And by God, he wanted to return the favor… but he was too conscious of the way Nat was watching them, and too worried that this was the wrong place and time, and what if he touched Tony and Tony _stopped_ touching him?

So as the gentle, verging on tender, exploration continued, Steve would only allow himself to drape an arm around Tony. Instantly, the engineer lit up and snuggled even closer – alright, touch was okay. Good even. Maybe great, if he wasn’t still feeling so stressed and unsettled. Now that he was sure it wouldn’t startle his maybe-sort-of-boyfriend, he tightened his hold on him and tried to hide a wince when Tony brushed a feather-light touch over his nose. 

“You ice this at all? Do you need painkillers? I can totally make them give you some painkillers.” Though the words were whispered, there was no hiding Tony’s signature nervous energy. His speech was fast and almost breathless, and he couldn’t help but smile. “I mean the really good ones, Stevie-kins. Except that might not be the best because you’d probably pass out, and I don’t think you’d be happy with that. No, no. We’ll get over the counter stuff, I guess, for now. And more ice maybe. Or do you thi-” 

Tony jerked when Nat covered his mouth with one hand, and Steve hissed in pain when the movement jarred his nose. Tony immediately went still and wide-eyed, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“Hush,” she told him hoarsely, waiting a moment to see if he would object before letting her hand drop away. Tony fidgeted a little, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks; Steve _hated_ that he might suddenly be feeling out of place. Shifting his hand, he guided Tony’s head to rest on his shoulder, turning to bury his nose in that wildly mussed hair. The engineer relaxed again, and stillness descended on the group once more.

When Bucky returned a few minutes later, Steve half-expected things to devolve into chaos again. His best friend didn’t always handle new people that well, and it had been such a stressful few hours. The way he came to a complete halt a few feet in front of them, brows furrowed in a heavy frown, only seemed to confirm his theory. Steve couldn’t help but start to clench up again, bracing himself for whatever madness the universe was about to throw at them.

Buck was eying Tony like the man was a puzzle that he couldn’t quite solve – and there was nothing the jerk hated more. For long, tense moments, he just stood and stared… and then something clearly clicked into place. He nodded as if some question had been answered, some puzzle piece at last slotting perfectly with its fellows. It only made Steve’s muscles tighten further, until Tony’s hand curled around the back of his neck; it was almost shameful, the way he melted at the light touch. Seeing that, Bucky flashed them a quick, nearly smug grin, then stepped forward to pass out the breakfast sandwiches he’d scored at the cafeteria.

Steve appreciated the food – he did _not_ appreciate the way his best friend growled at him when he tried to push his sandwich into Tony’s hand. The hypocrite then immediately shoved his own at their newest addition, ignoring Steve’s glare and Tony’s flabbergasted expression. Instead he focused on Nat, combining forces with Clint to wheedle her into eating it.

Sensing Tony’s hesitation, he couldn’t help but smile, and he bent down further to put his mouth to the man’s ear. “I’d eat it, if I were you. Buck tries to deny it, but he’s an even worse nag than me.”

“Doubt it, sunshine, but I’ll give in to Buckaboo this once.”

“Buckaboo?”

“Don’t question it, sugar lumps. Eat your sandwich before the Buckster turns the nagging on you.” Rolling his eyes, Steve did just that, managing to lean more fully on Tony as they both ate. Once Nat started to do the same, Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead, then went to sit on Tony’s other side. There really wasn’t room for four grown men and Natasha (delicate as she was) on the waiting room couch, but they made it work – they always did. He’d worried Tony would be uncomfortable, but the shorter man seemed almost delighted to be tucked between two former soldiers. He snuggled happily into Steve’s side and didn’t protest the way Bucky did the same to him even a little.

So many people probably would have found the whole situation unsettling, and seen the relationships between them all as incredibly strange and far too intense. They’d gotten quite a few looks already, from both the staff and the other visitors. In a perfect world, he’d have eased Tony into it all, would have given him time and space to adjust to the way his group of friends lived in each other’s pockets. Texting and phone calls weren’t the same, or even close to enough to adapt to the way they lived, not really. Steve and Clint had lost partners who just couldn’t handle it, who hated the way they all deliberately kept their lives so intertwined. He didn’t want to lose _Tony_ that way, and if he’d had his choice, he’d have done this so much more carefully and slowly.

He’d learned his lesson with Peggy, after all.

But Tony had yet to even blink at their cuddle-pile, or the fact that Bucky – who he was _not_ attempting to date, or so Steve prayed – had both arms wrapped around his waist and his face buried in the back of his neck. He seemed to just… accept it. Steve was pretty sure he could read pleased surprise in his eyes, and the words ‘touch starved’ came to mind. Tony might fit in just fine even without a slow-moving adjustment period.

He didn’t even seem to mind when, after Clint disentangled himself to go to the restroom, Nat subsequently crawled over Steve to squeeze in between the two of them. Tony just went with it, letting the redhead curl up against his chest before he adjusted his hold on Steve to free one arm. It was then that, for the first time, he hesitated, losing his nerve. His arm hovered instead of just draping over the woman, until she lost patience with it. Steve watched as she rolled her eyes, then grabbed hold of Tony’s wrist – he noted she was far gentler with him than she would have been with any other member of the group. She positioned his arm to her liking, then heaved a soft sigh and tucked her head under Tony’s chin, closing her eyes against the world.

It had been possibly the least chill introduction between two people in history, but somehow… it felt right. Tony was theirs – he needed to be here waiting n Maria as much as Steve did. The man belonged, and having him here, even if it meant he’d been tossed into the deep end of the pool, was a blessing. He was another pillar of strength in their support system – he’d even let Steve have his moment to fall apart without wavering in the face of his tears. Hopefully, this would silence the idiot engineer’s tendency to doubt their affection.

Even if he was still worried, now that Tony was with them it felt like his brood was complete as they worried for Maria. It was unwinding some of the tightly coiled tension in his chest, allowing him to calm down… at least a little.

So when Clint rejoined the pile on the couch, Steve did his best to let go and stop worrying. Maria was in the best hands, everyone else was with him, and things were going to be okay. He took the shoulder offered by the other blond and pillowed his head there; after a moment, he even allowed his eyes to droop until the fell closed completely. At his other side, half in his lap and half in Tony’s, was Natasha. The woman was as relaxed as he thought she would get without knowing what was wrong with her wife. At least her body was no longer so tense that Steve’s body ached in sympathy. He still had one arm around Tony – beautiful, sweet Tony, who’d flown across the country for them, who’d gotten a doctor that might give Maria and the peanut a fighting chance. The fingers of that hand were buried in Bucky’s hair, letting him keep track of his best friend. For now he was mostly relaxed, but he knew that soon hyper-awareness would likely set in again. The contact would help keep the feeling bearable, and he trusted that the former soldier would let him know if he got too close to the edge.

So, surrounded by his family, feeling safe and like things just might turn out alright after all, Steve let himself fall into a light doze.

~.~.~

“-eve? Babe, I gotta take this.”

“Mmnnnnno.”

“I know, honey-toast. I don’t want to move either, but Pep is scary, and I kind of ran out on her last minute. We have to strategize for a sec.”

Steve wasn’t completely sure what was happening, but his groggy mind was able to grasp two things crystal clear. The first was that he had a man (Tony, part of him rumbled happily, possessively) wrapped up in his arms, and the second was that Tony was trying to leave. That turned the happy feeling sour, and let out a very loud grumble of displeasure as he pulled the warm, firm body closer and pressed his face against Tony’s throat.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“Not’n public. Later, mkay?” Hearing Tony choke on air had him smiling again… at least until he heard Bucky, Clint and even Nat snickering. That burst the last of his drowsy bubble, and allowed the urgent sound of a ringing phone penetrate his awareness. Ah, Pep. Pepper was calling Tony, and the engineer needed to go talk to her; Steve got the feeling that Tony was a lot more important at his place of work than he’d let on.

“Jesus fucking Christ, babe.” That rumbling purr was at least a hundred times better in person, and also entirely inappropriate to the situation. If he popped a boner here in the waiting room, he was going to ask Nat to kill him and put him out of his misery. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, alright? Bucky-bear will keep you warm until I get back.” Without another viable option, Steve allowed Tony to wriggle out of his hold, grumbling with displeasure again when Bucky took his place. He didn’t peel his eyes open until he’d heard Tony’s footsteps and voice fade away.

“How long was I out?” he asked softly, giving a smile of thanks to Clint as the man pressed a bottle of water into his hand.

“Not long. Twenty minutes maybe.”

“Sorry – didn’t mean to pass out on you guys.”

“It’s fine, punk. Clint had a nap, you had yours. Me’n Tony are next, and then we can all gang up on Tash to try’n get her ta sleep.” The redhead only scoffed, burrowing closer to Bucky; she’d switched places with Tony after Steve had crashed, he realized. After taking a swig of water, he offered her the bottle, locking gazes with her until she took it grudgingly. Once she’d taken a few sips, he took it and twisted the top back on.

“Any news?” Leaning in, he brushed a kiss over Nat’s temple, wincing when he managed to jar his nose – as he got more awake, the ache was returning full force.

“No.” Clint answered with a frustrated sigh, plastering himself to Steve’s back. “Bruce texted Tony, I guess. Said he and that Dr. Cho had two more tests to run before they settled on a diagnosis. So soon. Hopefully.”

“I can’t believe he got them to come,” Steve whispered, feeling just a bit awed. Tony was clearly well off and important, but still – this would be expensive, and he couldn’t believe they’d actually traveled here just to take care of Maria. And- “What?” The rest of his group were exchanging a ‘look’, one that Steve was pretty sure boded ill for him.

“Of course they came. When Tony _fucking_ Stark asks you to do something, you do it.”

“Tony… Tony S-st…”

“Stark. Maker of Maria’s fancy work phone and tablet. Genius, prodigy, rich bastard. Playboy until his rumored relationship with Virginia Potts, his CEO. He’s mostly been laying low for the past few months-”

“A-cause he’s been talking to us. Your boyfriend’s a celebrity. Bruce Banner’n Helen Cho ain’t quite as famous, but fuck. Your fella brought some heavy hitters, Stevie.”

“… holy shit.” His lips felt numb. His lips felt numb, and he was a bit dizzy, and _Tony Stark regularly called him babe_.

“Yup.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Breathe.”

“Oh my god. I… he… shit. I can’t… I’ve… I’ve sent him pictures of my _abs_!” he hissed, closing his eyes as shame and embarrassment caused warmth to crawl up his neck and face. “He’s surrounded by pretty people, Buck, and… and… and I call him _sweetheart_. Jesus Christ.”

“Told him, huh?”

_**Shit.** _

Steve had never heard that tone of voice from Tony before – not from his Tony. It was Tony fucking Stark standing in front of him now, because he’d had to freak out. Shit. When he opened his eyes, the soft, nervous Tony had disappeared, leaving a hardened veteran of the press, and God he couldn’t believe he’d fucked this up.

“Tony-”

“Hey, no. It’s fine – I get it Steve. Last name changes everything, right?” Those fucking obnoxious sunglasses suddenly appeared in those beautiful hands, and Steve found himself wanting to slap the smug smirk Tony was giving him off his lips. This wasn’t _his_ Tony, not anymore. His sweetheart had left the building, and this fake, arrogant son-of-a-bitch had taken his place. The man slid the awful glasses on with a flourish, and now Steve felt like he might be sick. “It was fun while it lasted, I guess. Don’t worry – I’ll leave Brucie-bear and Cho here. I’m an ass, not a monster. Not anymore, anyway. Hope everything works out.”

He was just… he was just going to _leave_ , and Steve couldn’t get his body or his mouth to work, and this was just the icing on the goddamn shit-cake he’d been handed at two-thirty this morning. He’d gotten Tony, and now he was losing him, and this was fucking ridiculous. No. Absolutely not. He refused to believe that the billionaire engineer really wanted to walk away, and so he was not having it.

Bucky seemed to be of the same opinion, both of them jumping from the couch. Ignoring the glare Steve sent his way, he didn’t step forward to chase after Tony, ceding that right to Steve.

“Seventy-four days, Tony.” Steve didn’t know what the hell that meant, and he didn’t care – it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Tony’d already managed to get halfway across the room, and soon he’d just be gone. 

That was an unacceptable loss, and he could feel anxiety surging inside of him. He couldn’t let this happen.

He’d have broken into a run if he had to; thanks to his long legs, it was a matter of just a few quick strides. _Again_ he grabbed the shorter man without so much as a ‘how do you do’, grabbing hold of his shoulders and forcing him to turn around. Steve was sure that everyone was staring at them – again, because it was his day to cause as many scenes as possible – but it didn’t matter. He just… he just couldn’t lose Tony. That was the only thing his frantic brain could really process, so he didn’t worry about what everyone else thought as he reached up and grabbed those ridiculous glasses, tossing them over his shoulder.

The look in Tony’s eyes was like a punch to the gut, and _fuck_ he’d rather be in the desert being shot at again than standing there looking at the evidence of Tony’s hurt. Since the very beginning, Tony’d been worried about ‘fucking this up’; he’d been terrified that once they met (once Steve realized who he was) it would all be over. The man was a basket of anxiety and abandonment issues, and of _course_ he would see Steve’s momentary freak-out as him saying ‘I can’t handle this, goodbye’.

It had been poorly timed of him, and maybe he should have kept it inside, but it had been such a _shitty_ day, and it wasn’t even noon. His stress and emotions were running high, and Tony’s were probably running about the same – this had probably been inevitable. Another time, they could have handled this rationally, and Steve could have panicked once he was behind closed doors, and they could have both adjusted to the identity reveal. Instead they had this.

Instead they had Tony, vulnerability and pain and – maybe worst of all – _resignation_ in his expressive eyes, seeming to be on the verge of tears and ready to walk away before he got hurt even more.

Instead they had Steve, desperate to keep Tony from leaving, from ending this thing between them before they could really get started.

For a moment, they both hung there, gazes locked. Steve’s hands were on Tony’s shoulders, clutching almost convulsively; the shorter man looked braced to take a hit. He wasn’t about to let that stand, and he couldn’t find the right words through the anxiety clawing in his chest. So he threw being rational out the window – hell, their whole relationship was based on their questionable decisions leading somewhere amazing. Might as well keep the theme going.

Leaning down, he captured Tony’s mouth with his own; at the same time, he drew the man even closer. Tony went stiff for a heartbeat of time, just long enough for dismay to flash through Steve like a lightning strike, leaving just as much devastation in its wake. Then, thank God, the man melted against him, grabbing hold of Steve’s hips and squeezing down hard.

It quickly became one of the most intense kisses Steve had ever had, even though it remained relatively chaste. He felt like he was pouring his soul into it, trying to get Tony to _understand_ what he couldn’t _say_. Tony seemed just as desperate, and Steve felt like he could taste the man’s hope, his dawning realization that he was wanted.

As much as he wanted to linger on Tony’s lips, Steve was very conscious of their surroundings and the circumstance that had brought them there. This wasn’t the time to get lost in each other – he’d kept the genius from walking away, and he’d calmed enough that he was pretty sure he’d be able to talk. Reluctantly, he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed to Tony’s.

“Tony… sweetheart,” his voice cracked as he spoke softly, slipping his arms around the other man. “Please don’t go. I was surprised, not upset. You’re… it’s just… you’re _you_ , and I’m only _me_ , and-”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, honey-toast.” Tony sounded just as wrecked as he did, which was as distressing as it was reassuring.

“Nah. I’m pretty fuckin’ gone on Tony, see.” Dropping into his native accent was perhaps not fighting fairly, but since Tony didn’t seem to object in the slightest, Steve decided not to worry about it. “So I’d be real glad if he stuck ‘round for a while.”

“Steve’s way better than Tony-”

“Stop lyin’, sweetheart.”

“- but if he… if you want…” Tony stopped to gather himself, taking a deep breath as he peeked up into Steve’s eyes. The look in those warm, brown orbs just about brought him to his knees. “You really want me to stay?”

“Yeah. I can’t…” Desperation and anxiety briefly surged again, and Steve couldn’t help but press another soft kiss to Tony’s lips. “Tony, sweetheart, I don’t think I can get through this without you. I swear to fuckin’ god, once this is over and we get Maria and the peanut home safe, I will sweep you off your feet. I’ll wine’n dine you to the best of my ability, and I’ll… I promise, I’ll do this right. For now, can… c’n you just _stay_?”

“… yeah. I can do that.” This time it was Tony leaning into his space, bringing their mouths together for one last, sweet kiss. “Jesus fuck, babe. So goddamn dramatic and demanding.”

Steve let out a laugh of sheer relief, hugging Tony tightly before leading him back to the couch. Another cuddle-pile was formed immediately, one where Steve had both Tony and Nat in his lap, Clint and Bucky curled up on either side of him. Most recent disaster averted, he re-centered his focus on the redhead, hoping they would get some kind of news soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> This isn't edited even a little bit. XD I actually wrote it all on the computer, which is something I never, ever do - usually I write things out by longhand, then type it up. That way I can edit and such as I go, and that's as far as my editing process goes at all. I'm terrible at sitting on things I've written long enough to really check them over. XD So please forgive any errors, and maybe even point them out in a constructive way? :D
> 
> Comments feed my soul, so maybe leave one if you enjoyed it? <3 You're all so lovely! Thanks for reading!

“There… this is better than the waiting room, I think.” If Dr. Cho was waiting for Nat to speak up in either agreement or disagreement she’d be hanging on in silence for an awfully long time. Thankfully, she seemed used to grieving, shell-shocked family members and didn’t press for any words from any of them. Instead she gently ushered Nat to a seat and gave them all one of those polite but not overly saccharine smiles when the rest of the group dragged chairs to the redhead so they could sit clustered around her.

Tony being ‘Tony fucking Stark’ was a mind-trip, but also useful – Steve had a feeling most families didn’t receive news in a private room that was obviously usually used for staff meetings. He was awful grateful for the special treatment, even if they didn’t necessarily deserve it. If the news was _too_ devastating, having Nat contained in a room with as few bystanders as possible was the way to go. He and Bucky flanked her, with Clint sitting on a backwards chair behind her own, his arms draped over her shoulders. Tony himself was on Steve’s other side, looking more somber than he probably usually did. While the rest of them were watching Dr. Cho, he had his eyes set on a stocky, curly haired man whose eyes were hidden behind glasses; Bruce, Steve guessed. Tony was probably getting a pretty good read on what the pair had discovered, but he wasn’t passing any of that on to Steve. No, his muscles weren’t any tenser, his frown not any fiercer, and his grip on Steve’s hand wasn’t any tighter – nor were there any signs of relief.

God, he wished he could get the news first so he’d be able to do what he could to shield his people.

“Alright. Dr. Banner and I have finished the tests, and I believe we’ve come to the correct conclusions about what is wrong with your wife and child, Mrs. Romanoff. Did Maria’s doctor ever speak to you about preeclampsia? You can just nod,” she added quickly, catching Steve’s eye and giving a miniscule nod of her own. “Or sign, if you’d prefer – Dr. Banner and I both understand ASL, though I can’t sign much myself.”

After a moment of silence, Nat gave a stiff nod, then lifted her hands and began to sign. Doctors Cho and Banner were both fixated on her small, pale hands, nodding along in a show of understanding.

“Yes, I did see the diagnosis in her chart – I wasn’t certain how about the condition you could recall. Bed rest and the medications she was on were combatting the symptoms admirably – in the beginning. However, I believe the existing diagnosis of preeclampsia overshadowed a far more serious issue. Her doctor was sure enough of the original diagnosis not to keep digging.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Bruce added in a soft, smooth baritone. Maybe he could see the tension in Nat’s frame, or the way there was a storm brewing in her expression – Steve knew that he was a little afraid that she’d explode at Maria’s _actual_ Ob/Gyn. “The diagnosis was a good one, and there weren’t a lot of signs to differentiate.”

After that, if Steve were honest, he was kind of… lost. There was a lot of medical jargon being thrown around and a lot of long words that he couldn’t even begin to unpack. Tony seemed to be following, and Nat was hanging on Dr. Cho’s every word. Bucky and Clint looked about as lost as he felt, and he had a feeling the three of them would be on a Googling spree later to figure this all out. What he did manage to catch sounded, frankly, terrifying. HELLP syndrome, intrauterine growth restriction, placental abruption… none of it sounded good. All in all, he gathered that while Maria was almost certainly going to be alright, the baby was in a much more vulnerable position.

It was at that point in the conversation that Nat let out a wounded sound and curled into herself even further. Steve could sympathize, because it felt like a bullet was ripping through his flesh in the region of his heart. That was _Maria_ and _Maria and Nat’s baby_ that were in danger; the thought that they might lose the peanut before they even go to meet him or her was just… unbearable. Clint was hugging Nat as hard as he could, with his face buried in the crook of her neck; with the way both of their shoulders were shaking, Steve was fairly certain they were sharing in tears. Bucky was absolutely white, his jaw clenched and his hands curling and uncurling in tight fists.

Steve was sure that his face didn’t look much different, because the emotions that were raging inside his chest were threatening to tear him apart. He didn’t… he didn’t think about it much, because he wasn’t going to fulfil the role of ‘father’, but this was also _his_ baby. And fuck, what if… he’d never been the healthiest of kids, and this might be his _fault_. If Nat and Maria had gotten a different donor, the peanut might be fine, and they wouldn’t be having this horrible, awful talk. If his shitty genes weren’t part of the picture, the baby would be healthy as a horse, and they wouldn’t be here, in the hospital. They’d all be home safe and happy, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a happy, healthy baby. They’d be-

There was a sudden increase in pressure around his fingers that snapped Steve out of his thoughts. Blinking in surprise, he looked down; for just a moment, he wasn’t sure who belonged to the elegant fingers wrapped around his. Hell, he could hardly process the fact that one of the hands he was looking at was indeed his own. _Dissociation_ , he heard in his head, thoughts takin on the cool, clinical tone he’d heard psychologist employ on occasion. _You’re about a breath away from a dissociative episode, Steve Grant Rogers, so pull yourself together_.

Taking in a deep breath was more effort than it should have been, but he managed; the next one was easier, and the one after that easier still. Those were definitely his fingers, because they tightened around the darker set when he ordered them too. He focused briefly on the feel of the uncomfortable chair he was sitting on, and the quiet sounds of Nat and Clint crying, and the sterile scent that permeated the air of every hospital. Steve kept cataloguing sensations until he felt real again, until he felt anchored in the scene. Another breath, and he was able to gather enough courage to ask the question that nobody had yet dared to utter.

“So… so what do we do? I mean, what happens next?” His voice had a bit too much ‘Sergeant Rogers’ in it, but it was better than the alternative, so he’d take it.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but there are a few factors in our favor here,” Dr. Cho returned softly, giving a rather encouraging smile. “The fact that she’s so far along in the pregnancy means that we can do a C-section and the baby has a viable chance at surviving.”

“Also, the placenta didn’t fully separate – it was a partial tear. That’s good. It means that we can take a little time to try and stabilize both Maria and the fetus before we operate. Dr. Cho set up a blood transfusion before we came to you, and that’s helping. So that’s a point in our favor.”

“The fact that Brucie-bear and Helen are here is icing on the cake,” Tony interrupted, as if it had been physically paining him not to extoll their virtues before then. “The Cradle will help with the baby’s smaller organs, won’t it? I mean, you probably can’t use it to make her grow to the ideal weight, but the Cradle would be able to strengthen what’s there.”

“…yes,” Dr. Cho agreed, though she sounded far more cautious. “But I don’t like to put such a young patient into the Cradle. It’s still in the last of the testing phase, and I don’t want to risk it unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Another round of jargon and mild-mannered disagreements on the parts of the three geniuses in the room. Steve didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell at following along, and now Nat looked unsure and confused as well. At least now all the commoners were in the same boat. When Tony, Bruce and Dr. Cho finally arrived at an agreement, he spoke up before Tony could get too far into the detailed explanation.

“Please, I can’t… I barely understand what you’re saying. Could you dumb it down a bit for me? Please can we get some layman’s terms?”

“Sorry Steve,” was the rueful answer from Bruce as the man cleaned his glasses. “It’s easy to forget sometimes. The Cradle would probably work, but it’s designed for adults; Dr. Cho and I would prefer to save it for an absolute worst case scenario. If the fetus is in real jeopardy, and Natasha agrees, then it would be used in the event that any other action wouldn’t be enough to save the life of the fetus.”

“So… it’s our nuclear option?”

“I guess you could put it like that. And again, it’s only if Natasha agrees. You don’t have to,” he added in a kind aside to Nat, who had half-turned in her chair so Clint could hold her a little better. “It’s your choice. At that point, even the Cradle isn’t a guarantee. So if you don’t want to chance it-”

A flurry of hand-activity from the redhead, one that even Steve had trouble keeping up with. Once he’d puzzled it out thought, he frowned. “Are you _sure_ Nat? This… Cradle thing sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus – no offense, Doctor. I just don’t really understand how something like that could exist.”

“She’s a genius and I provided a shit-ton of financial backing. I promise Steve, the science here is solid, and I don’t think having a baby in there instead of an adult would make too much of a difference.”

“Tony, we can’t _know_ that, and it would be-”

“Irresponsible not to properly test such a hypothesis,” Tony parroted along with Bruce, tone of voice rather sulky. “I know! And most of the time, I’d be all for the testing! But if we get to the point where you and Helen are even _considering_ using the fucking thing, then we’re kind of already at DEFCON 1, right? So if Nat’s down with it, then fuck the tests and do what you gotta do.”

Nat’s agreement with Tony’s assessment was immediate and adamant, and it left a sour twist in Steve’s stomach. God, he wanted to believe it would be fine, wanted to trust Tony’s understanding of the science, but it was so _hard_ when he didn’t understand _any_ of it himself. But it was Nat’s decision, ultimately, and she… she had given the go-ahead, and even now was signing her name on a form that released Dr. Cho and Bruce to use the Cradle if they deemed it necessary. God, this was all happening so _fast_ …

“The transfusion is going to take approximately three more hours,” Dr. Cho informed them all once the paperwork was out of the way. “We’re monitoring both Maria and the baby closely; if it comes to it, we’ll start the C-section before it has completely finished. As it stands right now… I can’t let any of you in to see her, and I’d like you to wait in the waiting room during the actual procedure.” The woman had managed to soften her tone as she delivered _that_ bit of news, perhaps anticipating Nat’s reaction. The little redhead jumped to her feet and slammed both palms against the table; it was enough to make Bruce jump and have a worried Bucky wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from lunging at Dr. Cho. Clint was on her only a second later, shoving both their chairs away so he could be at her back with his arms around her, whispering urgently into her ear.

Dr. Cho and Bruce watched all of this with compassion, while Steve was eying the group a bit warily, waiting to see if he’d need to intervene again. He could feel his nose throbbing a painful reminder of protest at the notion. Clint and Bucky should be enough though, so he could conserve his strength for the moment. Tony squeezed his hand again, and at the reminder that his sort-of-maybe-boyfriend was there with him, he turned toward the other man and put his forehead against Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s free hand immediately went to his hair, stroking the locks in a way Steve found incredibly soothing; some of the tension began to leak from his frame.

“After the procedure Maria and the baby will be here for a while, won’t they?” That was a question Steve should be asking, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when Tony seemed willing to pick up his slack. He couldn’t see them, but both doctors must have nodded their agreement, because Tony started talking again. “Okay, then here’s what I propose. I’ll rent us a couple of rooms in the hotel just down the street. We can all go grab two hours of sleep and maybe a shower, then come back here for the C-section. That way we’ll be ready to celebrate when everything goes swimmingly, not dead on our feet, and we’ll have places to stay while Maria and the peanut recover. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Fuck yes.”

“Yeah.”

Where all three men had been quick to agree, Nat was now glaring at _Tony_ like he was the enemy. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch – he just offered her a tired smile. 

“You need some sleep, Natty-cakes. Even just a short nap in a bed will put you in a much better place. We’re gonna be two minutes away if anything happens, and I swear on science that I will have you back here before they start the C-section. Once we get through this part, the rest is going to be a marathon, not a sprint. So let’s go grab just a bit of shut-eye, okay?”

It was with the greatest of reluctance that Nat eventually agreed; as they were leaving the room, Tony was already on his phone to get them a set of rooms. Guilt and shame ran through Steve’s veins like a red-hot wire until they settled heavy in his gut.

“You know, I could pay for the rooms,” he murmured in Tony’s ear as the small group headed down the hallway in a tight cluster. “Or Nat could, or Bucky or Clint. You don’t… you don’t have to. I could. Why don’t you let me take care of it?”

“… we are not having this fight right now.” Tony answered in a tight voice, a razor-sharp edge there that warned Steve away. The man’s shoulders were suddenly full of tension and his jaw was clenched in a way that made Steve’s twinge in sympathy. It all left him feeling distinctly like he’d touched on a nerve, and that he should be apologizing.

He just couldn’t figure out what for.

~.~.~

“You’re sure it’s okay if we share a room? I can sleep-”

“You can sleep in the bed with me, Tony. Already told ya that, di’n’t I? ‘S big enough.”

“I know you said… I just don’t… you’re sure you’re… okay with that?”

“If I wan’t, I wouldn’ta said I was.”

“You’re fighting dirty, and I don’t appreciate it. Someday I’m going to figure out a way to talk that’s all… all sexy and shit, and then I’ll use it against you. We’ll see how you like it then.”

“Tony, you’re always talkin’ sexy. Don’t gotta change it.”

“Shut up and get in bed.”

“Yessir.”

“… I shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.”

“Prolly not,” Steve agreed, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled expression on Tony’s face. It was horrible of him, but there in that hotel room, with Nat out of sight? Well. It felt like there was a weight off his shoulders, like he and Tony were existing in a bubble of sorts, where the ‘bad’ in their lives was having a hard time getting in. He wanted to laugh and cry, wanted to hug Tony tight, wanted to kiss him and explore the edge of attraction he’d felt for the man for months now… but none of it was really appropriate. He should be more worried about Nat, should have fought harder for all five of them to stay in one room. Sure Tony’s arguments against it made a lot of sense, as did the way their group had split, but… well.

It felt like Steve was shirking his responsibilities, and he shouldn’t be so happy to have these moments alone with Tony where he could _breathe_.

Before he could tailspin completely, Tony came out of nowhere, jumping onto the bed where Steve had laid down only moments earlier. The mattress bounced like crazy, shaking him enough that he couldn’t help but start to laugh; just like that, the spiraling thoughts were averted, and he didn’t lose himself to the darkness.

“That’s better,” Tony murmured, flopping like a fish until he was laying right next to Steve, his dark head of hair pillowed on his shoulder. “Listen, this all sucks. Big time. The situation sucks hairy monkey balls – like, real hairy, with lice and everything – and it isn’t fucking fair. Maria is a gem among dog shit, and the peanut is… well it isn’t fair. It’s horrible and awful, and I am fully on board with that. But it’s not all on _you_ , honey toast.” It was hard to rebut that statement when it was murmured right against his skin, Tony’s breath moving hot and damp over his neck. “I know you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders babe, but last I checked your name wasn’t Atlas. Let yourself have a break, okay? We’ve got two hours here, just you and me, so give yourself permission to stand down. Please, Steve. Give those broad shoulders a rest for just two hours. I’m begging you.”

“… take your shoes off if you’re gonna stay in the bed, Tony.” His sort-of-maybe-boyfriend was right – disturbingly detailed monkey-ball image aside – but Steve’d be damned if he’d admit it out loud.

“Really? Really? No ‘thanks Tony’, or ‘you’re right Tony’, or ‘I promise I’ll stop carrying the weight of the universe, Tony’? None of that? Really? Well. See if I ever try to make you feel better ever again.”

“I just wanna cuddle under the covers, sweetheart,” Steve returned, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips. Tony was… a character, that was for damn sure. He had a feeling the feisty genius would run roughshod over anyone who let him. “So if you could get yer shoes off, we could get ta that.”

“… oh. Well. In that case. Absolutely, you’re right – shoes in bed are bad. Sometimes. Sometimes they can be pretty sexy. I’m a fan of heels myself.” As he babbled, Tony toed off those expensive loafers of his, letting them fall to the ground without a car. The jacket was the next to go as Steve inched up to the head of the bed and began fighting with the covers. “I’ve got this pair that… wait. We aren’t to kinks yet, are we? Fuck. I’ve said too much. Look, forget about shoes in bed, and any mention of heels, okay? Just… I’m tired. It’s been like, two days since I slept, which is actually pretty good for me, but you know that. I mean, with you and all our dumb friends bugging me, I have been sleeping more, so maybe that’s why I can’t seem to stop fucking _talking_ ,” Steve was taking it all in quietly as he finally got the covers out of the tight tuck they’d been in, sliding beneath them and waiting for Tony – who was waging his own battle with his belt – to join him. “Because I’m not used to so much sleep, and you’re like, right here, and so am I, so I’m kind of nervous, but everything is fucking terrible outside of this room, and I told you not to think about that too much while we’re here, so I’m being a goddamned hypocrite, and I cannot believe that I told you about the _heels_ of all the fucking things and hmmph… mmm…”

Kissing stopped the babbling better than any other trick he’d tried, Steve noted a bit smugly. Even if it was still just the chaste press of his lips against Tony’s, the billionaire melted into it with a happy hum. Without breaking contact, he wriggled and scooched until he’d joined Steve under the covers; as a reward, Steve made his own hum of approval and opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue flick over Tony’s lower lip. At the same time, he lifted his right hand and slid it possessively over Tony’s jaw, cupping the man’s face in a tender, easy motion. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lose himself in the sensations that came with kissing Tony. The light scrape of facial hair, his plump but slightly chapped lower lips, the way he tasted… God, he absolutely perfect, and that wasn’t even all of it. There was also the way Tony _sounded_ – the little whimper that had escaped when Steve’s tongue touched his lip had been almost criminal – and the way he had taken hold of Steve’s shirt and was holding it tightly, like he never wanted to let go.

Any other day, Steve would have let himself go. If they’d met under any other circumstance, he knew that he’d let himself drown in Tony; another day, he’d have allowed himself to lick into Tony’s mouth so he could claim it completely, until he’d learned every inch of it. He’d have let his hands explore every bit of Tony’s body, finding each dip and mapping out every muscle. Another day, he wouldn’t have stopped until they were both naked and he had Tony under him, mindless with need and begging Steve to just _take him_ …

But what they had was today, with Maria in the hospital and the rest of their shared friends a door down.

So Steve eased off on the kiss, though he couldn’t help but return twice more for a quick, soothing peck. Once he finally managed to separate their mouths completely, he tucked Tony’s head under his chin and pressed his lips to those unruly strands of black hair. A shuddering exhale left him as he closed his eyes, both his arms easing around Tony to draw him close.

“I’m not going to forget, but we’ll table the talk about kinks and heels for now,” he murmured, his voice sounding much rougher than usual to his own ears. “It’s… not the right time. Not yet. But, uh… I like you a lot, Tony. If this shit show hasn’t scared you off-”

“Do I seem at all scared?” Tony interrupted, sounding rather breathless as he cuddled closer to Steve’s chest.

“Hush. I’m tryin’ta do this right. You weren’t real sure about meeting up with me, but Tony… I swear to God this doesn’t change anything for me. I still like you. I still care about you sweetheart, and if you disappear behind the phone again – or completely, for that matter – it’s gonna break my heart. So… could we do this another day? Meet up, and I’ll take ya to dinner and a movie – or dancing, I would go dancing with you – or even just coffee? If you’re not… I mean, I’m not smart, not like you, and I’m never gonna be rich like you, but-”

It was Tony’s turn to use a soft, lingering kiss as a distraction, and then his face was pressed to Steve’s neck once more. He liked the way he could feel Tony’s lips form each word as he spoke. “Don’t be dumb, baby cakes. I like you for who you are, so that’s not… I wasn’t sure… you have to let me pay for things sometimes.” Suddenly his tone was far more serious, that same edge that Steve had heard at the hospital returning. “I’m not… when I do it, I’m not trying to show off, or make you and your friends feel bad. I just… I have a shit-ton of money Steve, and I like to spend it on people I care about. If it’s going to be an issue, I need to know _now_.” The ‘ _before I give you any more of my heart_ ’ was left out, but Steve still heard it loud and clear.

“I… I’m not gonna lie, Tony. That… it makes me a little… I don’t know. Fuck. I didn’t mean to make _you_ feel like shit. You earned your money, and you should be able to spend it however the fuck you want. And I know I can’t ever… I can’t give you the same stuff you can give me. But… I wanna pay for some of our dates too. I want to buy you cheesy shit that makes me think of you as presents. I wanna get you flowers. I want… I just want to be able to spoil you a little too.”

“… you don’t have to, you know. Most people don’t bother.”

“’M not most people.”

“You certainly aren’t.”

“So… we doing this? You wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Ugh. What are we, twelve?”

“Come on Toooony. Be my boyfriend. Lemme take you to homecoming and show you off.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Mmm. Give you my letterman’s jacket. You can wear my colors.”

“Jesus fuck. You’re delusional.” It was nice, Steve decided as he let his eyes drift shut and a smile curve his lips. This bit of playfulness was nice. Better than nice even; it was the calm before the next storm broke, and he hadn’t even realized how much he’d _needed_ that until Tony gave it to him. He wasn’t dumb – he knew they’d fight again about money. But for right now, as he slowly let himself lose to the creeping cloud of exhaustion he’d been holding back through sheer willpower, this was all he needed. It was fucking perfect, actually.

“Only m’boyfriend would be able ta wear my dog tags. Eventually.”

“… dog tags and your letterman’s jacket?”

“Mmm.”

“Fine. I’ll be your goddamned boyfriend. Kids today are so fucking cheesy and sentimental.”

“You like it.”

“Debatable.”

“You like _me_.”

“Yeah. I like you Steve. Like you a lot. Enough to be twelve with you, apparently.”

“Good. Now go to sleep Tony.”

“Sir yes sir.”

“Hmmmm… you’re right, that is nice.”

“Later it will be, yeah.”

“Lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me too, honey-toast. Me too.”

“Tony? You set an alarm?”

“Yup. We’ll wake up in plenty of time. Now let me nap, you barbarian.”

“Hmm. Right. … … Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anything for you babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come scream at me/toss me prompts on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/). <33


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I promised this would be up a couple days ago, but hnnng. First I discovered the Logan/Scott Summers pairing and got lost there for a while (I don't even fucking like X-Men that much, but oh my god was I interested in them) and then. Well.
> 
> My brother bought me Stardew Valley for the PS4 as a very belated birthday present, and I got it on Saturday. I've had the game for like, 4 days, and I have already gotten through the first year, gotten married, gotten three stars out of five toward rebuilding the community center, and am now working towards having children with Shane, my hubby.
> 
> I may have a slight problem. :'D
> 
> So I'm so sorry, but here it is at last! I think there'll be a couple more chapters in this fic, and then I'll move on to the next story I want to tell in this 'verse.
> 
> Comments, please and thank you? :D

It had been a long time since Steve had woken up next to anyone else. He’d always enjoyed it – that was one of his favorite parts of having a romantic partner, if he were honest with himself. Being warm and drowsy, cuddled up to someone he cared about… it was just the best. Waking up to Tony was no exception, and contentment flowed through him as he slowly came back to consciousness. They were completely wrapped up in each other with Tony’s face tucked against the crook of his neck, breathing steady and warm across his skin. Steve’s right hand was curved around Tony’s hip while both of Tony’s were buried under his shirt, one splayed over his lower back and the other palm flat against his abs. It was comfortable and sweet, and Steve never wanted to move.

There was a soft beeping in his ears that was steadily growing louder, and distantly he knew that he really did need to wake up. There was something important he should be worried about, somewhere he needed to be… but the knowledge was vague and still easy to ignore. It was even easier to gather Tony closer and let his hands start a lazy exploration of the man’s torso. Easier still was following the urge to roll his hips into Tony’s, not really seeking anything more than increased contact.

But the beeping had reached a volume that was annoying, distracting even. Who the hell had set an alarm? The flood of light he could see even through his closed eyelids meant it was daytime. He never took naps during the day unless he could sleep as long as he wanted, and he sure as fuck didn’t startle himself out of them with an _alarm_. And why did his nose hurt so damn much?

Just like that everything came flooding back, and his blissful reprieve was over. Regretfully he pulled away from Tony – who was still deep asleep, if his breathing was anything to go by – and reached for the phone on the bedside table. It was Tony’s, and a lot nicer than his own; he was grateful he could turn the alarm off without facing off against the daunting-looking lock screen. When the dratted beeping _finally_ stopped, he rolled out of bed with a groan and a stretch. He’d wake Tony up in just a minute – the man deserved a bit more sleep after flying all the way from California.

Once he’d padded to the bathroom, he couldn’t help but wince when he caught sight of his reflection. His eyes and nose were a tapestry of colorful bruises and the latter was swollen to double its usual size. Nat was going to feel terrible about all that when she saw him. He wished he had a way to cover it up almost as much as he longed for some painkillers. He also couldn’t help but gingerly prod at the area, because he was an idiot, hissing when that intensified the throbbing ache. At least it wasn’t crooked and he could sort of kind of breathe through it – meant his decision not to have anyone look at it had probably been the right one.

Thanks to the way his senses were pretty constantly alert, he heard Tony’s approach. That meant he didn’t cold-cock the man in the jaw in surprise when he felt arms slide around his waist – he had a feeling that would have put a real damper on their relationship. Steve smiled when the smaller man practically collapsed against his back, those arms going tighter as Tony yawned and nuzzled the spot between his shoulder blades. “Bed was cold without you,” he complained petulantly. “You’re like a furnace babe. Like it, but it sucks when you leave.”

“Sorry Tony.”

“’S fine. Just from now on, no leaving bed before me.” That sent a wash of hope and affection over him, and despite everything he couldn’t have kept himself from grinning even if he wanted to.

“You’re gonna have to actually come ta bed for that ta work, y’know.”

“Mmph. Details. And I’m getting better at going to bed too. Bigger issue is making sure we end up in the same bed. Anyway. Do you want to take a quick shower or anything before we go? I can make you some awful hotel coffee while you’re at it.”

“Are you sure we have time?” If they weren’t ready to go as soon as Nat was, Steve knew there would be hell to pay. As much as he wanted a shower, it just wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, he was eager to get back to check on Maria too. There probably hadn’t been any changes, because Nat would have pounded their door down if she’d gotten any news, but still. He’d feel better once they were all waiting in the hospital together again. Besides, there probably wasn’t time for both of them to have one, and no matter how much part of him perked up with interest at the thought, he and Tony were nowhere near ready to share one. “Even if we do, are you sure you don’t want to take one instead?”

“We have time – I set the alarm so that we would. I know you didn’t get to take one when you got the call this morning. And… once you’re all settled in the waiting room, I think I’m going to make a quick trip home.” Maybe feeling the way that made him tense right up, Tony snuggled closer and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his neck. “I’m just gonna shower and change there, then grab my tablet. I’ll drive everyone crazy if I don’t have something to work on while we wait, and there’s some stuff I really should get done today to make Pep’s life a little easier. With traffic it’ll be an hour tops before I’m back.”

“But you _are_ coming back?”

“Yeah, honey-toast. I’m coming back. Promise.” After a moment, Tony moved to place himself between Steve and the sink. Leaning up, he placed a sweet, careful kiss against Steve’s lips and slid one hand into his hair. “We’re together, right? We decided, even if I’m not wearing your colors or your dog tags yet. So of course I’m coming back, Stevie-kins. I’ll grab some painkillers on my way too, because your nose looks awful. If you need anything else, or if Nat, Clint or Bucky do, I can grab whatever it is. C-sections don’t take very long, but it’ll probably be a little while before they let us see Maria or the peanut. I’ll get whatever you guys want so we can be at least a little comfortable while we wait. Now go shower, kay? Do you want me to make some crappy hotel coffee?”

“Yes please,” he answered, giving the man a kiss in return – one that was a lot less careful, broken nose be damned. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Anything for you babe.”

~.~.~

Tony ended up with a small list of things to bring back with him. Food, mostly, since Steve’s snack supply had run low and the hospital food was less than impressive. He fretted about it, but managed to refrain from offering his new boyfriend any money to pay for it all – mostly because he’d seen Tony watching him askance, waiting for him to do just that, and he really didn’t want to fight about it. It earned him a grateful, clinging kiss before Tony headed out with a promise to be back ASAP.

He’d left before Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner came back to the waiting room to run through everything one last time. That was a little disappointing, because Steve really would have liked someone to hold his hand through it all. They brought with them a Dr. Connley, who would be performing the C-section itself. Nat briefly panicked over that, but Dr. Cho patiently explained that it was better to have someone who specialized in charge of the operation. She would be on-hand to assist, and she would be the one determining when and if to put the cradle to use.

At that point, Dr. Banner informed them (with a lopsided, self-deprecating smile) that he would _not_ be in the operating room. Ethical considerations would make him a handicap in an emergency, he explained, because he didn’t believe the cradle should be used for the infant at all. Instead, he asked Nat’s permission to wait with them until the surgery was over. The redhead furrowed her brow in confusion, but eventually nodded her head. Dr. Banner gave her a kind smile and thanked her warmly, and something in Steve was starting to click into place again – maybe this man was supposed to be theirs too.

And then… then it was go-time.

The doctors who would be performing the operation disappeared behind swinging double doors, and Nat collapsed bonelessly onto one of the empty waiting room couches. Clint immediately wrapped himself around her, and Bucky sat down on her other side almost as quickly. Dr. Banner was blinking at them owlishly from behind his glasses, looking not exactly judgmental, but certainly nonplussed. Steve realized with an internal sigh that he might not be able to take in their collective closeness with the same easy acceptance as Tony had.

So when he took his place next to Bucky, he didn’t curl up against his back the way he wanted to. He just… sat, which felt sort of wrong, but he could put up with it for a little while. Making sure their legs were pressed together and their shoulders touched helped a little, and he figured he could relax into the cuddle pile gradually. That _did_ seem to put Dr. Banner a bit more at ease, and the curly-haired man took a seat in the chair beside their couch, offering Steve what turned out to be a very reassuring smile.

“The blood transfusion went seamlessly, and there’s no reason to think the C-section won’t be just as smooth,” Dr. Banner told them all as they settled in, watching Nat with a warmer version of that same smile. “Dr. Connley is the best obstetrician at this hospital. He’s very skilled at his job, and he’s done this procedure countless times. Helen might not be as practiced in this field of medicine, but she is extraordinarily gifted. Maria is in very capable hands.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banner.”

“Please, call me Bruce. Tony’s told me a lot about all of you. He’d be crushed if we weren’t on a first-name basis by the time he gets back.”

“Well… then thanks Bruce. Pepper mentioned on the phone that you aren’t really this kind of doctor. I appreciate you flying out here anyway.”

“I was mostly enlisted for moral support,” Bruce said bashfully, shifting in his chair. “Dr. Cho would have been fine without me. Ginny wanted someone on the plane with Tony, I think, and to be here to run interference if he gets too… uh. Well. Anyway. He was pushing the pilot pretty hard even with me to try and keep him calm. I’m pretty sure wanted the poor man to break the sound barrier to get here faster.”

“Seems like that kinda fella.” Bucky broke in, voice warm with affection. Clint snorted in either agreement or amusement, and even Nat had a tiny smile on her face.

“I think the saying ‘go big or go home’ was invented for him,” Bruce admitted in a wry tone of voice. “Or maybe he sees it as a challenge. Either way, it means he can be great to have around in a crisis. He’d do anything to help the people he cares for.”

“Mm. Things would be… worse now, without him.” Nat was _speaking_ which meant the time away and hope had worked wonders. He didn’t think that she’d actually slept any, but Bucky and Clint had clearly helped her relax at least a little. Or maybe just knowing what was wrong and that something was being done to fix it was helping. “You… do you think Dr. Connley and Dr. Cho can save my baby?”

“If they can’t, no power on this Earth could.”

“Thank you.” Bruce was clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. He started fidgeting again, then removed his already clean glasses to wipe them with his shirt, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat and gave an uneasy shrug, that wry smile on his lips again. “You’re welcome, but you really don’t need to thank me.”

There wasn’t really much to say to that, and silence descended over the group. This time it wasn’t quite as oppressive, not quite so fraught with worry and fear. Tony’s idea to take that two-hour break had been absolutely genius. Everyone seemed far less wound up, and Steve knew he definitely felt better for it. And Bruce… he was a good addition, even if he didn’t want to cuddle with them the way Tony had. His very presence was calming and soothing. With his solid, steady aura, Steve had the feeling it was hard to get too agitated in his company.

Well, Tony probably could, but he was excitable all the way around really. So he probably didn’t count.

Half an hour later, Steve found himself desperately thirsty. When he disentangled himself from Bucky and stood, the doctor did as well. The man trailed after him into the hallway, and Steve slowed so they could walk side-by-side. They were quiet until they reached the vending machines, when Bruce cleared his throat again.

“They’ll have completed the surgery by now, is my guess,” he commented awkwardly after, sounding a little nervous. “Well, they might still be stitching Maria up, but I imagine we’ll hear something soon.” Steve couldn’t help but notice that the man was playing with his glasses again, and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Maybe even before Tony gets back. It’s a short procedure.”

“Ah. Well, good. Nat’ll be happy. The waiting is killing her, I think.”

“Right. Of course.” There was a tension in the air that Steve hated, and he couldn’t help but give a sigh as his bottle of orange juice thumped its way to the bottom of the machine. Bruce clearly had something to say but didn’t want to actually voice it. That meant it was probably not the best timing, which meant it was almost certainly about Tony.

“Can I get you something, Bruce? And spit it out, whatever it is.” He softened the words with a smile, not wanting to upset Tony’s friend.

“Oh. Uh. A raspberry tea would be nice, if you don’t mind. And…” For a moment, as Steve fed another two dollars into the machine, silence fell again. Then it was Bruce’s turn to sigh, shaking his head at the same time. He removed his glasses and rubbed the indentations they’d left behind on his nose, looking pained. “I’m terrible at this. I’ve… never had to give a shovel talk before.”

“Shovel talk, huh?” Steve’s smile widened, because Bruce was one of the least intimidating men he’d ever met. He was also nervous and clearly had no idea how to go about this. It was sweet of him to try anyway, and him doing so spoke volumes about his friendship with Tony.

“Yeah. I guess… just try not to hurt him? He’s… more sensitive than most would think, and he doesn’t have… well. He only has a handful of friends, but we’re extremely protective of him.” Suddenly his expression went hard, and there was a spark of something in his eyes that was frightening in its intensity. Steve found himself forced to reevaluate his opinion of the mild-mannered scientist, because maybe the man _did_ have it in him to be intimidating. “I would be very angry if someone hurt him, Steve. I don’t enjoy being angry, and you wouldn’t like me that way either.”

“No, I don’t think I would,” he agreed, swallowing hard as he bent and fished out his juice and Bruce’s tea. “And… I’m going to try really hard not to hurt him. It’s a relationship though, and no matter how hard we try, we’re gonna hurt each other sometimes. So… how about I just promise to never do it on purpose?”

“That’ll have to do.” Bruce offered one of his lopsided smiles as he accepted his tea, glasses back on and embarrassment written in his expression. “Sorry. I know this isn’t the ideal time, but I’ll be going back to California tomorrow, and Ginny would never forgive me if I didn’t say something before then.”

“Ginny… is that Pepper?”

“Yes. Her real name is Virginia – Tony is the one who started calling her Pepper, and I think most people have forgotten that wasn’t the name given her at birth. Even in interviews and articles they tend to use Pepper.”

“Which is why you use Ginny.”

“Yes.” Bruce was blushing, which was absolutely adorable. Steve could definitely see why Tony liked the man so much. “She’s… special to me. I wasn’t expecting it, and I feel badly that it happened so quickly after she and Tony… ended things. But… well. He’s come around to the idea, I think.”

“He loves you both. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I believe that’s correct. Finding you didn’t hurt either. You’ve been good for him.”

“We’ve been good for each other.”

“Mmm. I’m glad.”

With that, all the tension that had briefly existed between them was gone. They both fell quiet again as they made their way back to the waiting room, understanding each other a little better now. This time, after he settled in that chair all by himself, Bruce scooted it closer to the couch. Maybe he didn’t want to cuddle, but he was perhaps more open to being part of their group than Steve had assumed.

And the waiting continued.

~.~.~

Dr. Connley looked nearly cheerful (compared to their first meeting) as he approached their group, which Steve chose to take as a good sign. Nat did too, because when she jumped up from the couch, she was almost smiling again, hope bright in her eyes. Steve was on his feet after Clint only because he had to pause to give Bucky a quick elbow to the ribs to wake him from his light dose. They were all standing by the time the doctor reached them, however, ready and anxious for the news he would bring them.

“Mrs. Romanov and, uh, friends. I’m happy to report that the C-section was completed successfully.” He very politely went quiet as all of them let out what amounted to a cheer and began to give each other ecstatic hugs. Even Bruce was dragged into the action, despite the flush on his cheeks and the bit of tension that had entered his frame. Nat ended up in Steve’s arms when they finally schooled themselves to silence, giving their attention back to the doctor.

Nat was crying silently, as was Cint. Bucky was suspicious bright-eyed as well, but he likely would actually let the tears fall. Not in a hospital, anyway – Bucky would never feel safe enough in a hospital to let himself cry. Steve felt moisture gathering in his own eyes, but he held back his own tears – it was his job to be strong. Later he could cry in relief and release, but for now he had to at least try to keep a level head. Nat had total and absolute dibs on breaking down, after all, and he was there to support her. When he heard her give the tiniest of sniffles, he tightened his hold on her and brushed a light kiss over her temple.

“So the baby? My baby?”

“You are now the proud mother of a little girl. Congratulations, Mrs. Romanov.” Steve barely heard the last over a new round of happy exclamations. They went quiet quickly though when the doctor held his hands up, expression going a little more grave. “Unfortunately it’s not all good news. There are a few… complications moving forward. Maria is doing well – I’d like to keep her for at least 48 hours, even if Dr. Cho decides to allow use of the cradle to help her recover faster. That’s just standard procedure, and as long as everything continues to go smoothly for her, there should be no reason to keep her longer. I am a little concerned about the baby, however. She’s underweight by a fairly significant amount, and her lungs are underdeveloped. There may be some issues with her heart as well, and we have a pediatric cardiologist who will join the team shortly to see if there’s any truth to that.”

Steve was now holding Nat up, because her legs had clearly gone weak at this new pronouncement. The air of celebration left them quickly, replaced by the worry and fear they’d been living with since this all began. “So what does that… I mean, what happens going forward? Is she… is she in danger, or…?” God, he sometimes hated his self-appointed role as the spokesperson and ‘strong one’, because he sure as fuck did not want to be asking that awful question. He couldn’t force himself to make it any clearer, because using the word ‘death’ or any variation of it was unthinkable.

“I won’t lie to you – the underdevelopment of her lungs is a very serious issue. Right now, we have her on support, and Dr. Cho is considering use of her Cradle technology. As it was not tested for infants, she doesn’t want to risk any adverse effects. Right now Dr. Cho is waiting to see if we can keep your baby stable without her intervention. If anything happens to make her question that, she will immediately authorize its use. She’s keeping a very close eye on your child, Mrs. Romanov, and I have every reason to believe that she’ll pull through.”

“Well of course she will – knowing her parents, I can say that with absolute certainty.” That was _Tony_ , speaking from behind him, finally back from running his errands. Steve wanted to turn and give the man a welcoming smile, but he didn’t move quick enough. Arms wrapped around him and Nat both, and he felt a pointy chin rest on his left shoulder. “She’s going to be a fighter, just like Natty-cakes here. I’m more worried about complications further on. Is it something that’s going to affect her growth and cause problems later?”

“We’re not there yet, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Connley cautioned, grimacing for a moment. “Right now we’re concentrating on making sure she gets enough oxygen and releases enough carbon dioxide while we encourage lung growth. In the normal course of things, it might be something that follows her throughout her life. If the Cradle comes into play? I’m simply not prepared to make any definitive statements. If there _are_ any problems with her heart, that’s more likely to cause issues throughout the rest of her life. But again, it’s too early to say for sure. Right now the important thing is that mom is fine – uh, the other mom, I mean – and the baby is almost certainly going to pull through as well.”

“Can I see them?”

“They’re moving Maria into a room right now – once they have her settled, she is allowed visitors. I’d prefer if it was just one or two of you sitting with her until she starts waking up, which may take a few hours. Her body was under a lot of stress prior to this, so we want her to _rest_.”

“And the baby? When can I see my baby?” Nat was trembling like a leaf in his arms, and Steve tightened them as a precaution. He didn’t really think she’d go after Dr. Connley, not after what he’d done, but his nose throbbed a dull warning to make sure. 

“That’s going to be up to Dr. Cho and the pediatric cardiologist,” the man answered in a soothing tone of voice, perhaps seeing that Nat was approaching the edge again. “Once decisions are made, if she’s moved to the NICU, that’s when you’ll be able to see her.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. All I can recommend is that you sit with your wife once she’s moved to her room, and we’ll let you know the instant anything changes.”

“What’s the name of the pediatric cardiologist?” Steve was surprised to hear Bruce speak up – almost as surprised as he was that Tony was being fairly quiet.

“It’s my hope that Dr. Niki Moretti will be able to take on another patient – she’s extremely good at what she does, and I’ve worked with her a lot in the past. We have a call out to her, and we’ll hear back shortly. Dr. Jakob Owens is just as good, and he’ll be brought in if Dr. Moretti isn’t. I only would prefer Dr. Moretti because we do work so well, together,” he added, maybe realizing that none of them would be happy if a doctor that had even been _hinted_ at as being subpar was assigned to the peanut. “Dr. Owens is talented and incredibly invested in the wellbeing of his patients. Either way, the baby is in good hands.”

When Steve glanced at Bruce, the curly-haired man had his phone out, and he had the feeling they’d be getting a very honest, objective opinion on both Dr. Moretti and Dr. Owens in the near future. That was definitely something he could get on board with, and he was sure everyone else would appreciate it too. 

“Do you have any more questions for me right now?”

“How long until I can see Maria?”

“Give us about twenty minutes, Mrs. Romanov. If someone hasn’t come to find you by then, speak to the receptionist and tell her to page me so I can find out what’s going on.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Not at all Mrs. Romanov. I’m sorry all the news I had for you wasn’t good.”

After a few more murmured platitudes, Dr. Connley left and Steve wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. On the one hand, Maria and the peanut had made it through the C-section, and thank God Maria wasn’t in any danger. And even though the baby – a _girl_ , he had a _goddaughter_ and he’d bet anything that she was absolutely beautiful – wasn’t entirely healthy, there was a team of skilled doctors working to make sure she survived and then thrived. All in all, it was confusing, and stressful, and there were more emotions roiling inside of him than he could even begin to name. The nap he’d taken wasn’t nearly enough to get him through this.

Nat returned to her place on the couch tucked between Clint and Bucky, and Steve knew she’d started a mental countdown of 20 minutes. Heaven help them all if Maria wasn’t produced within that time span. Steve, meanwhile, turned to face Tony and wrapped his arms around the man. He’d come bearing a duffle bag and three shopping bags as well, all piled around his feet. It was ridiculous of him, but Steve was incredibly reassured by all of that – it spoke of an intention to stay beyond just the next moment. At the end of visiting hours, Tony wasn’t going back to that swanky tower Steve privately thought was a bit of an eyesore. No, the billionaire was coming back to that slightly shitty hotel with them even though he could do much better for himself. He was going to stay because they needed him, and Steve didn’t think he’d ever been so in love with anyone before.

He thought he should probably keep a lid on that for now though – declarations made in a crisis (in a hospital, no less) were only romantic in movies. In real life, he was liable to set the object of his affection running for the hills. That or Bruce would get mad.

Steve’d really prefer Bruce _not_ be angry with him.

“Hey,” he greeted softly instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “You came back.”

“Told you I would, honey-toast.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe once you had some space to breathe… but you’re here. I can’t tell you what that means sweetheart.”

“Don’t need you to. What I need from you is to take the painkillers Happy picked up for you. He used to box, so he knows all about taking care of broken noses. He said you shouldn’t have aspirin for it – panicked a little when I picked it out, which was, really, very uncalled for – and then scolded me when I went for the ibuprofen instead. He said it _has_ to be acetaminophen, but when I asked him why he just sort of spluttered at me. Then he whipped out his phone and went to WebMD, which, okay, but that site _also_ regularly tells me I have a brain tumor, so I’m not completely sure that I buy it, but I got you acetaminophen anyway to prove I can be a good boyfriend. Ugh. I can’t believe I’m calling myself that – it’s so grade school, Steve. I need that letterman jacket like, now so I can remind myself why I agreed. Anyway, the acetaminophen – I got Tylenol, I hope you don’t have anything against Tylenol – is in… one of these bags? It’s in the bag with Bucky’s dried mangos, which by the way, gross. I still got them, and all the other stuff too if you all want to grab it, an-”

Tony Stark was an adorable disaster, Steve decided halfway through the rant, fondness and affection drowning out all of the other, confusing and conflicting feelings he’d been experiencing. He was trying so damn hard, and he didn’t have to be doing any of this. Fuck, they’d only _met_ a few hours ago – as much as he loved talking on the phone with Tony, being with someone in person was always different – and the genius was still bending over backwards to try and make things better for them.

Steve was going to marry this man someday, barring any unforeseen catastrophic problems in their future. 

As Tony started to ramble about the various and sundry snacks he’d brought with him, Steve couldn’t help but bend down and catch his mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. When he finally pulled back, it was to rest his forehead against the other man’s, lips curved in a smile. “Hey,” he tried again, lifting his right hand to cup Tony’s cheek, other arm still curved around his waist. “I’m glad you’re here Tony. Tylenol is fine, and thanks for bringing it to me – Happy is right, whoever he is, even if I don’t know why. You can have the jacket soon as I unpack it in the new house, I promise.” And shit, that was a whole other kettle of fish that he hadn’t even _thought_ about dealing with yet. “Did you get some not-shitty-hotel coffee before you came back?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m not mad about it – you’re just babbling. It’s adorable-”

“I am not adorable, Steven, you bite your heathen tongue-”

“-but you usually only do it when you’re nervous, tired, or hyped up on too much caffeine, so I just wondered-”

“-look at this manly visage, and you tell me how the word ‘adorable’ would be the one you reach for first, because I am _offended_ -”

“-if maybe you stopped at, I dunno, Starbucks or something-”

“-you think I drink _Starbucks_? Oh, it is on, buddy, and don’t you even think for a second-”

“-and sorry, sorry, I forgot you think Starbucks is the devil, I just meant that you were babbling, and now I’m babbling, and we should stop before Nat kills us.”

“Natty-cakes would never kill me. Not here anyway – too many witnesses.”

“Just take the damn meds, Stevie, and let Tony babble if he wants’ta. It’s cute.” Bucky interrupted, sounding exasperated with the both of them and shaking a bottle of pills in one hand.

“I am not cute!”

“Of course you aren’t, Tony,” Bruce agreed, hiding something that looked suspiciously like a smile behind one hand. “You’re the farthest thing from cute, but this isn’t really the time or place. What did you bring to work on? Anything I’m familiar with?”

“Brucie-bear, I know what you’re trying to do here. If you weren’t my science bro, I wouldn’t let it work, but… well. I do adore you so, and Pep’ll be mad if I make you grumpy, so fine. Steve, you should sit first so I can sit in your lap! Then you can see what I’m working on too and tell me if I’m headed in the right direction. I’ve never really worked with paintball stuff before, so I’m flying just a little bit blind-”

“Paintball stuff?”

“-and I could really use your input here. Everyone else’s too, eventually, but right now your job is to keep me distracted so I don’t do something crazy, so you give me your input now.”

“Not that I mind,” Steve answered easily as he dropped back onto the couch – next to Clint this time, because Bucky had a glint of mischief in his eye that meant trouble for him – and finally took the offered bottle of painkillers. Once three were in his palm, he swallowed them dry and held back a grunt of pain when Nat swatted the back of his head for doing so. “But… we’re in a hospital Tony. What sort of crazy thing could you do?”

“I don’t know. Pep has guidelines about what ‘crazy’ means, but I don’t really understand them. Like, if I donated a new pediatric wing without informing her first, she’d get really, really mad-”

“Tony, please, _please_ don’t do that. She won’t get mad if you just ask talk to her about it first. Please. For my sake.”

“I _know_ Brucie-bear. That’s why Steve’s job is to keep me distracted enough that I don’t do that. There’s not too much time before Natty-cakes gets to go sit with Maria-”

“Sixteen minutes and seven seconds.”

“-but we’ll probably all stick around until visiting hours are over. That is a long stretch of time, and I am capable of a whole lot of crazy – at least in Pep’s opinion. So keep me distracted Stevie-kins, honey-toast, babe, light of my life. Unless you’re going to go sit with Maria and Nat, in which case it’ll be Bruce’s job once you leave.”

“I thought you wanted to sit in my lap? You’re babbling again sweetheart, and my lap is still very sadly lacking a Tony.” Once the man sat down, Steve was hoping he could help him relax a little. It had been two days since he’d slept even _before_ the trip out here, and that just wasn’t good for a person. If Tony relaxed, maybe he’d fall asleep – Steve was very willing to give his all in the effort to get Tony to take another nap. “And it’ll be Clint that goes in with Nat. Me, Bucky, you and Bruce – if he wants to – will go once Maria is allowed more visitors. Until then, we’ve got time, so get in my lap and show me your designs. I want to see them, and you can explain them to me.”

Tony lit up like a tree at Christmas, like nobody had ever said something like that and meant it. He couldn’t imagine _not_ wanting to watch Tony work, or get some kind of insight into his brilliant mind. The idea of getting to see a Stark design before it reached the final stage was… well. It was exciting and kind of humbling, and Steve couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. Now that he’d gotten permission, the genius was in his lap quicker than anything, a tablet in his hands and that bright smile still on his face. Yeah, Steve was definitely going to marry him one day, because he was sweet and sexy and adorable and he didn’t have to be there.

Tony Stark could be anywhere in the whole goddamned world, and he was choosing to wait in a hospital room with a bunch of people he’d only met a few hours ago. He was there with them, providing a much-needed breath of fresh air and just enough of a distraction. Steve’s worry didn’t completely fade, of course it didn’t, and Tony’s (adorable) babbling couldn’t make Nat forget that her wife and baby girl had been through an incredible ordeal and it wasn’t over yet, but… well. Tony just being there (now rambling about the most over the top ridiculously awesome paintball equipment Steve had ever heard of) made things better. He made things better, and he fit, and he belonged to them now.

He wondered how soon wouldn’t be too soon to propose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on my To-Do list is 'What Has Been Done'.
> 
> You can always bug me on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/), though I am often slow to respond. I tend to forget it exists for long stretches at a time, then post ALL THE THINGS at once. XD
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay! There'll be one more after this, and then this fic will be done! I have more planned for this series tho, because I do so enjoy writing in this 'verse. XD
> 
> Thanks to KiernaSerea for beta-ing this chapter!! <3 And thanks to all you lovelies for reading my stories! :D
> 
> Comments maybe please and thank you?

Steve, is Tony still with you?  
4:30 PM

**yes maam**

**Pepper!!**

**sorry**

**but ys**  
4:31 PM

Calm down, Steve, it's fine if you stumble on the Pepper at first. He's not answering my texts, so I was worried.  
4:31 PM

**hes sleeping**  
4:32 PM

He's sleeping?!  
4:32

**yes. do u want me to wake hm up?**  
4:32 PM

No, no. It's fine.

But... could you take a picture and send it to me?  
4:32 PM

**um. sure?**  
4:32 PM

**\- Picture Sent -**  
4:33 PM

Steve, is that you with him?  
4:33 PM

**um. yes maam**

**pepper!**  
4:34 PM

Wow. You are just as good looking as Tony said, even with a broken nose. And you two are adorable together. I can't believe you got him to cuddle AND sleep.  
4:34 PM

**um thanks. but im not uh. thanks**

**hes tired been up almost 3 days**  
4:35 PM

I know. Would you mind calling me? I had something I wanted to talk to you about.  
4:35

**ill hav to talk quiet**  
4:35 PM

You won't wake him, if that's what you're worried about.  
4:36 PM

**were in waiting room**  
4:36 PM

Ah. I wouldn't want you to bother anyone. Call me when you can?  
4:36 PM

**yes Pep**  
4:37 PM

There it is - I knew we'd get there! Thanks Steve.  
4:37 PM

When he looked up from his phone, Steve took a careful inventory of the room. It was empty except for their group - he was pretty sure that wasn't an accident. Especially since it was by far the nicest waiting room he'd ever been in. He didn't know if Tony had asked for it or if someone had just recognized 'Tony fucking Stark' and taken initiative. Either way, he was glad for it. It gave them a bit of privacy and he _could_ call Pepper if he wanted.

Nat and Clint were in with Maria, and had been for almost an hour. Bucky was snoring on his right shoulder - drooling too, which was both gross and familiar. Tony in the meanwhile had his face tucked against the left side of Steve's neck - he was also drooling, but it was somehow adorable instead of gross. Bruce looked like he was meditating, so a phone call probably wouldn't be enough to disturb him either.

So he didn't feel too bad when he pushed the 'call' button and lifted the phone to his ear. The part of him that remembered all of Sarah Rogers' lectures on manners was squirming a little, but still. It was fine. He wasn't bothering anyone even if this was a public space, and no one was going to grab him by the ear and haul him out.

Probably.

"Hello Steve." Ms. Pepper Potts had a lovely voice, one that soothed the vestiges of Steve's Catholic Guilt. "I didn't think you'd be able to call so soon." It was funny - she'd sounded so cold the first time they spoke, but now it was like summer lived in her vocal cords, and wow he needed a little more sleep. He only got poetic when he was tired and stressed.

"Well there's only us here, so if I'm quiet it'll be fine." Bucky's head had slid downward when Steve made his call, so now his best friend's face was buried in his stomach - he was out, and Steve talking wouldn't bother him at all. Tony's ears were still _right there_ though, so he used his free hand to start gently massaging his scalp. Hopefully that would keep him relaxed enough to stay asleep. "And I really wanted to say thanks to you. I know last night was important to you and the company, and Tony leaving couldn't have helped. But you made sure he came, and you got Bruce here too. So thank you, from our whole family."

"Oh Steve." From what he could tell, Pepper was pleased but a little flustered by his words. That was good - better than angry for sure. He really, really wanted to stay on her good side. She was so important to Tony, so she was important to him too. "Of course I wanted them to go help. The health of Maria and the baby is more important than a business function. Tony really wanted to be there for all of you. He said it looks like everything is going to be alright?"

"Yeah, seems that way. Maria is fine - tired and really high on pain meds according to Clint, but fine. And the doctors are pretty sure the peanut is going to be just fine too. She needs a little help breathing, and her heart might always be an issue, but she's alive and going to pull through. Thank God for that."

"I'm glad to hear it, Steve. Give them my good wishes, won't you? I asked Tony to, but he won't remember. I'd love the address of the hospital too, so I can send flowers."

"You don't have to do that, but of course I'll tell Maria and Nat. But, um... wouldn't Bruce remember?"

"Yes. But I doubt he'll go in and see Maria himself. He's a little shy, and I know he wants to be back on a plane to Malibu tomorrow morning. How long do they plan on keeping her?"

"Two days. Then she can go..." Steve trailed off and sucked in a long breath, closing his eyes tightly. God, he didn't know where they'd bring her. Almost nothing had been moved to the new house, but their current places were almost all boxed up. And getting her settled somewhere anyway only to move again... fuck. Why hadn't he thought about this yet?!

"That was actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Tony's mentioned several times that you just got a new house, all of you together. I just... I know how hard it is, moving to a new place even when things are going well." Tony shifted in his sleep, snuffling his neck, and Tony couldn't help but remember that Pepper Potts had recently moved away from the man he was holding. "So moving when things are so complicated must be a nightmare."

"I... I haven't even had a chance to think about it. God, we can't take her back to the old house, but the new house is empty. Shit. I mean, sorry for the language, but shit. I can't pull Nat and Clint away, or ask Tony to help us with it - he shouldn't have to do that for us. I just don't know how to... fuck, I haven't even decided on a moving company or-"

"Steve, Steve - easy. It's alright, I didn't mean to upset you. The reason I brought it up was because I wanted to offer a little bit of help. If you'd like, I can get in touch with the moving company Tony and I have used and have them move everything to your new home. All you'd need to do is have someone there to supervise - just one of you would be fine. That way the rest of you can stay at the hospital but the house will still be ready for Maria."

"Oh, Pepper, you don't have to- I mean, I wouldn't want you to put yourself out. And I don't... I mean, it's such short notice, so I don't know if a moving company would be able to..." Steve bit his lower lip, idly toying with a few strands of Tony's hair. "Do you really think they'd be available?"

"Definitely."

"Do you remember how much they charge?"

"I was going to ask if you'd mind me taking care of that."

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to, and I know you could pay for it yourself, or find another company. But you see, if I don't offer this and you don't have something set up, _Tony_ will decide to take care of it."

"Ohhh."

"And Tony wouldn't just get a moving company, Steve. I love the man, but he tends to be a bit... excessive. He might not even hire someone at all. He could very likely decide to buy everyone all new furniture, and then the house won't go with the furniture, and so he'll _have_ to have it painted and maybe even remodeled, and before you know it there will be a construction crew working overnight to make changes you never wanted in the first place."

"I'd really like that not to happen." Steve admitted, guilt rearing its head again when he looked down at Tony. He really, really liked Tony, but... yeah. If what Pepper said was true, he needed to get a handle on the moving situation pronto. To soothe that guilt, Steve pressed a few kisses to his temple and the crown of his head.

"I didn't think you would. So let me handle this - they're just afraid enough of me to be willing to do this quickly without too much of an overhead. You can just get me a nice Christmas present in return."

"And a birthday present too, or no deal." Pepper's laugh was rich and warm; Steve couldn't help but feel proud for being the reason for it.

"Alright, and a nice birthday present too. Is that a yes? I don't want to overstep, but I don't want Tony to sabotage himself by going overboard."

"It's a yes. But um... even if he did do that, I think we'd work it out. I care about him, Pepper, and I don't intend to let him get away that easily."

"That's so sweet. I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm so glad he got to meet you Steve. He's been driving me crazy with questions about if he should or shouldn't visit, and what if you thought he was too old, and he's 'sooooo hot, Pepper, his abs are toooooned Pep', and 'what if he doesn't liiiiike me Pep'. It was adorable but also a little irritating. Mostly because he did it during board meetings." Steve knew his face was cherry red with embarrassment, and he pressed his forehead to the top of Tony's head.

"He... he really said all that?" Another laugh, and this one made Steve wanted to duck his head like a bashful little boy.

"Not you too. Yes, he likes you and thinks you're attractive. He said you're the sweetest person he's ever spoken to, and he loves how much you care about your friends. I hope you don't mind, but he's shown me several of the pictures you've sent him of your art. As a collector, I have to say I'm impressed." The noise he made was akin to the whistle of a tea kettle, and it made Pepper laugh once more. "Sorry. But you're very talented, and he was _so_ proud when he was showing them off. So he likes you as much as you like him, and if I see him in Malibu in less than two months, I'll have to assume that you hurt him enough to make him leave, and then I'll have to kill you." That last sentence had her voice turning to ice again, ice sharp enough to cut, and holy shit did he never want to be on her bad side.

"Uhm. Ha. Ha. Right. I'll, uh. Keep that in mind."

"Good. Now." Just like that, her speaking voice was flooded with warmth once more, and Steve was just a little bit in awe. "I'll let you go. I'm so glad everything is going well, and I hope everything keeps getting better. I'll get in touch with the moving company and text you once I've got almost everything squared away. Then you can settle the details and send someone to meet the workers at whichever home you'd like to start with."

"Thank you so much, Pep. I promise - your Christmas and birthday presents will be aces."

"I'm looking forward to it. I'll talk to you later Steve."

"Thanks Pepper. Have a nice day."

"Thanks. Bye now."

"Bye." As he hung up, Steve started to think about the logistics of Pepper's suggestion. Bucky hated hospitals, so he was probably the best one to send to supervise. Or maybe he and Steve could do it in shifts - that would work too. Or, if they could get started tonight, maybe he could leave Nat, Clint and Tony to get some sleep and he and Bucky could both go, help out a bit. They'd start with Maria and Nat's place first in any event, and have their bedroom all set and ready to go so Maria could be comfortable. Maybe he should wait until Pep texted him the info on the company before he decided the rest…

"Stop thinking so loud," Tony complained suddenly, sliding his hand up Steve's chest. It gave him a sort of shivery feeling that he tried to ignore, because it was _sooo_ not the time for that. "I can't go back to sleep with all that racket."

"Oh, so now you can hear me think?"

"Mmmm. I'm very talented." Steve bent his head and pressed his lips to Tony's temple again, wearing a goofy smile.

"Well I'm sorry my thinking woke you up."

"That wasn't what woke me up, honey-toast. You made a funny noise - that's what woke me up. Your thinking is just stopping me from falling back asleep. So stop thinking."

"I'll try."

"Mm. So that was Pep?"

"Yeah. She wanted to pitch in, I guess, and she's gonna help us get moved into the new house before Maria gets releas-"

"That's what I forgot!" Tony practically shouted, popping upright like a Jack-in-the-Box. It was loud enough that Bucky snorted and sort of half-woke, though Steve's quick squeeze to his shoulder reassured him enough that he dropped right back off. Bruce started so badly that he nearly fell out of his chair, glasses askew. Once he realized nothing was wrong he began to glower at Tony, who ignored everyone and just kept talking. "I knew I was forgetting something, something big. Dammit. Sorry Stevie-kins, I really thought I'd gotten it all... here, let me call Pep and talk to her about what's going to happen, or maybe I could just take care of it. I have guys, and they're great guys. Although - is Maria and Nat's bed any good? We can't have Maria sleeping in a sub-par bed, Steve. She needs a really good one. And the peanut! She needs a safe crib - the safest - so maybe I could call-"

Steve reached out and gently plucked the phone from Tony's hand, then caught his lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Tony made a quiet noise against his mouth, then got with the program, one of his hands cupping Steve's jaw. When he finally pulled back, Steve moved to Tony's ear, making sure his lips dragged ever so lightly against Tony's skin the whole journey. "Hey. Pep's got it covered."

"But I-"

"Don't you trust her to handle it?"

"Of course! The woman owns half my company and runs all of it just fine. She could handle a little thing like this in her sleep."

"Then let her do it. She wants to help out, Tony, just like you do. You're already taking care of the hotel rooms for as long as we're here, right? Taking care of the moving too would just be selfish."

"Selfish?" Steve could hear the laugh in Tony's voice, and it made his mouth curve up into a smile. Tony shivered a little at the feel of it against the shell of his ear, so Steve pulled back just far enough that his lips were no longer touching the man's skin.

"Yup. Selfish."

"Let me get this straight babe. I want to spend money on someone else, and you're calling that selfish?"

"In this particular instance, yes I am."

"You... are a crazy person."

"And you like me. You're my booooyfriend."

"Oh my fucking god. Stevie-kins. Baby. Apple of my eye. Shut your face."

"Don't wanna."

"Do it anyway."

"Make m-"

"Jesus Christ. Both of you can it - 'm trying to sleep here. Flirt somewhere else." Bucky punctuated his words with a couple jabs to Steve's stomach that had him flinching. Before he could say anything, Tony reached out with his left hand and flicked Bucky's forehead. Bucky playfully snapped at his hand when he pulled it away, drawing a sound out of Tony that was suspiciously giggle-like.

"We're not flirting, cupcake."

"Don't flirt with me neither. You couldn't handle the both of us at one time, Tones - but we could give it a try, if you want." While Tony gaped, Steve rolled his eyes, then gave a gentle tug to Bucky's hair until his best friend met his eyes, one brow arched. "What do _you_ want, punk?"

"We have a rule. Do you remember the rule?"

"No popping off my arm and throwing it at people when they ask for a hand?" Tony started to laugh at that, though he turned his head and smothered the sound in Steve's shoulder. Steve almost succumbed as well, but managed to keep a straight face. He gave Buck's hair another tug, one that was a little less gentle.

"The other rule."

"No hinting at the possibility of a threesome involving the two of us, even as a joke." Bucky intoned flatly, though his eyes held a hint of mischief. "It's never happened and it will never happen, and it's wrong to lure in potential partners with such a suggestion." Tony had stopped laughing now, and was staring between the two of them with wide eyes. He wasn't the one who responded first, however, much to Steve's surprise.

"I'm sensing a story. Possibly several." Bucky's attention shifted to Bruce, his grin wolfish.

"More'n several. It's funny how quick some people'll jump at the chance."

"Wait. So you just... tell people that you and Steve will both sleep with them?" Bruce sounded somewhere between impressed and judgmental. When Steve looked over at him though, there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Sometimes." Bucky answered easily, shrugging one shoulder. "Wouldn't ever actually do it, 'cause no offense Stevie, but ick."

"Right back at you buddy."

"Why in the world would you do that?"

"Bruce, my sweet, innocent science bro. I don't know if you can handle the answer." Tony left Steve's lap, and he couldn't help but pout at little as he watched his boyfriend walk to Bruce and collapse into the armchair with him. There was just barely enough room for them to sit squashed side by side. To his surprise, Bruce didn't seem upset at all; he just flashed an indulgent look Tony's way, even when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his curly hair. "Stay blissfully ignorant, my darling lollypop. Please don't let these horrible, nasty men taint your purity!"

"Wow, Stevie. Your boyfriend's kinda mean."

"I know Buck. I'd be offended if I didn't like him so darn much."

"Aww, thanks honey-toast."

"What did Bucky say about the flirting?" While Steve turned his head to keep from laughing at the look on Tony's face, Bruce just kept looking at him straight-faced. When the scientist didn't immediately apologize, Tony gasped dramatically, throwing an arm over his face.

"Bruce! You traitor! You have broken my heart into a thousand pieces."

"I bet Stevie'd put it back together for you."

"Butt out, cupcake."

"Stevie! You gonna let him talk to me that way?"

"Looks like it, yeah."

While Tony badgered Bruce and Bucky began squawking at Steve, the two of them shared a long-suffering look softened by affection for the pests they'd chosen to saddle themselves with. It was a nice moment, and Steve was suddenly sure that everything was going to turn out alright. Things weren't going to be perfect, and they might not get the fairytale version of a happy ending... but that was okay. They were all of them going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr that is [here](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/)! Visit if you're interested in reblogs with no tags in various fandoms along with things that make me giggle. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter guys!! I have more planned in this 'verse though, so long as people would be interested in reading it.
> 
> This was my first fic ever in the Marvel fandom, and it's been so fun to write and think about! Without the impulsive first chapter of it, I might never have dared to start writing in the fandom at all... so it's one of my special babies. I started it over a year ago (omg) and I feel like I've learned and grown a lot as a writer since then.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me until the end, those of you who did! I hope it was worth the wait. <3

Rayna Elise Romanov was the most beautiful baby that Steve had ever seen. Everyone said that, of course, but he was absolutely sure that it was true this time. He wasn't allowed to hold her, not yet, but they'd finally been given the okay to at least _see_ her. Natasha, in full scrubs, a face mask and gloves, was standing on the other side of a glass window. Carefully cradled in her arms was Rayna, who was pink and perfect and so small Steve was suddenly terrified for the day he would actually be allowed to touch her. She was so... so breakable, but beautiful, and he'd helped make her. He hadn't played a huge role, of course, and he'd never forget that it might have been his shitty genes that endangered her and her mother, but still. Steve had helped bring her into the world, and he was going to be the best damn godfather ever.

"She's beautiful..." Maria breathed in an echo of what Steve was sure they were all thinking. She was in a wheelchair (her doctor had insisted), with one hand pressed to the glass. He _hated_ that she wasn't allowed to touch and talk to Rayna directly... but the risk of infection was too high for both of them. Maria was largely healthy now that the peanut was out in the world, but even with the use of the Cradle for three minutes (all a fretful Dr. Cho would allow) Rayna's immune system was still shaky at best. At least the machine had strengthened her lungs, and her doctors were no longer afraid that she wouldn't get enough oxygen or expel too little carbon dioxide. Her heart was another story, but the defect wasn't life-threatening. With treatment, it was something that could be managed fairly easily.

More easily than some of Steve's childhood illnesses, at least.

"She takes after her mom. Both of them, actually, which is interesting because Nat didn't even help with the baby-making." Tony was the one who'd been pushing Maria's wheelchair. Just then he'd let go of one handle to rest his hand on her shoulder instead, probably in an attempt to comfort her. "Are you sure my... _boyfriend_ ," gosh, Steve loved hearing that title from Tony's lips despite how juvenile Tony clearly found it. "Had anything to do with putting this bun in your oven? Be honest - you figured out how to splice genes, didn't you, and Steve is just a convenient cover story."

"I was the one who figured it out," Clint told him, slinging an arm around Tony's shoulders. "Involved lots of beer, a Nerf arrow, and some scotch tape."

"You have no idea how science actually works, do you?"

"Nope!" Clint agreed, sounding more proud of that then he probably should. "That's why I leave it to the brainiacs. Aw, look at her yawning..." As adorable as aeyna was, she was getting some serious competition in the form of her other godfather. He'd let go of Tony and was now crowded against the window, making little cooing sounds. "Hello there, sweet girl," he crooned, like she could hear him through the glass. "You are just the cutest thing ever... look at her little foot! Oh my gosh, her _toes_. I didn't know toes could be so cute. Maria, I demand you have five more so we can each have our own to spoil."

Maria looked less than impressed at the demand, while Tony had figured out that he'd been included in the baby count and was pleased as punch.

"One more is my limit, Clint," she informed him, reaching out to give him a painful looking jab in the side. "And move - you're blocking my view." Clint moved just about the fastest Steve had ever seen him move, because they were all hurting for Maria just then. "I could stare at them for hours," she murmured, a soft but wistful smile on her face. "She was scared shitless about holding the baby, you know. She was practicing with dolls all the time when she thought I wasn't paying attention. I thought I might have to do all the holding and carrying for a while..."

Bucky, who'd been silent ever since Nat had turned to them holding Rayna, settled his hand over hers on the glass. "You'll get to hold her soon," he promised, voice gruff. "You and Tasha'll be arguing over who gets to be the one to carry her soon, and when you're distracted with that one of her uncles will steal her for a while."

"Uncle Clint mostly, from the look of it," Tony teased, punching the man lightly in the shoulder. Clint only made a rude noise and continued pulling faces and waving at Rayna, who only yawned again and turned to nuzzle her face against Nat. "Why’s she so tired? Babies don't even have _jobs_ , what does she have to yawn about?" Steve rolled his eyes and looked over at his boyfriend... who looked oddly spellbound despite his dismissive tone of voice. "Wait until I start teaching her all about business taxes and how to grow a stock portfolio - _then_ she can yawn."

"Aw, Uncle Tony's going to steal her sometimes too." Tony punched Clint's shoulder again, then shook his head. His smile, Steve noticed, looked a little bit like the one Maria was still wearing. Kinda sad, with a hint of longing and something really complicated beneath the surface.

"Pep'll do the real teaching, whenever I can drag her out this way from Malibu. And I'm totally not stealing her when she's a baby. I don't do babies. No offense, because she is the prettiest baby to ever baby, but still. They do that weird spit bubble thing, and there's all sorts of weird shit pouring out of like, every orifice of their bodies. It's gross. Again, she's beautiful, but ew. Plus I don't know how to... I mean what if I dropped her? I think I'll pass on the gross, horrifying stage of life, thanks, and steal her once she can talk and wipe her own nose." While Clint and Bucky chuckled and Maria shook her head, Steve sidled up to his boyfriend and wrapped an arm around the man's waist.

After pressing a kiss to his temple, he moved his mouth to Tony's ear, keeping his words private between them. "I'll show you how to hold her, Tony," he promised quietly. "An' I'll be there to wipe away all that 'gross' stuff too."

"You're giving me a cavity, shnookums."

"Give you more'n that," Steve returned, lowering his voice to a growl. If they'd been anywhere else, Steve would have added a nip to his ear or neck, but tact was one of his strong suits. Bucky clearly didn't think so from the flat look he shot the both of them, but when he glanced down at Maria her smile had lost that hint of sorrow. Clint, thank God, hadn't noticed a thing - he was busy snapping pictures on his phone.

It wasn't what he'd imagined for the first time seeing his goddaughter, not by a long shot. But they were together, which was always the most important thing. Maria was ready to go home - to their new place, where she could order all of them around until the nursery, her room and the dining room were set up just the way she wanted them. Tony had already offered them the use of his driver (which had been hard for Steve to wrap his head around) to get them back and forth to the hospital whenever they needed. Within a few days, Maria should hopefully be allowed in to see Rayna; maybe a few days after that, they'd get to go in one-by-one to meet her themselves. Soon, they'd get to bring the peanut home too.

So even if it wasn't what any of them had wanted, it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Plus, now he'd met Tony, and he was going to do his best to never let the man go. It was too soon (probably, he'd ask Bucky and Clint later) to hand over his dog tags, but he was sure that one day he'd get to see Tony wearing them. 

In a way, his goddaughter had been the one to bring them together outside of phone calls and texts. It was a totally valid reason to spoil her just as rotten as he'd been meaning to anyway.

~.~.~

Tony's ringtone was the only one that was different from the default sound, mostly because his tech-savvy boyfriend had finally found a way to lock Clint out of his phone. He'd then proceeded to give himself a different ringtone than everyone else, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay. Mostly because Clint always gave him awful and wildly inappropriate songs as ringtones that he was terrible at getting rid of. An added bonus was that he always knew when Tony was calling, and it never failed to put a warm smile on his face. Putting down his paintbrush, he pulled his phone from his back pocket - even now that they were officially dating and had been for almost a month, Steve still got fluttery feelings in his stomach whenever he knew he was going to get to talk to the man.

"Hey boyfriend," he greeted as soon as he'd answered - he loved the offended squawk Tony made whenever he called him that.

"Steeeeeve. Babe. Baby. Honey-toast. Shnookums. Light of my life. I am not twelve. I have not been twelve in many years, the number of which I will never tell you, but rest assured I am pretty damn close to cradle robbing here. Please. Please. I beg of you."

"You don't wanna be my boyfriend?"

"Stop with the sad voice - the sad voice isn't fair when I'm not there to kiss you until you laugh again." Steve started to laugh even without the kisses, and Tony sounded pretty damned smug about it when he continued. "And no, I don't want to be your boyfriend," Steve would have been upset by that if they hadn't had this conversation at least ten times already. Bucky'd called them an old married couple the third time he'd witnessed it, while after only the first time Clint asked if he could go with Tony if they ever got divorced. "I want to date you, sure, but as a grownup. We are grownup people, honey-toast, and not even for you will I revert to high school behavior. I assume it's high school, anyway - skipped that, went right to college and the drinking and the partying. But I think boyfriends was a high school thing. Was it?"

"Yeah, Tony. It can be a high school thing," Steve agreed, a hint of anger sparking in his chest. Every time he remembered that Tony's dad had shipped him off to college way too young, he started to feel like punching things. "Or it can be an us thing. Come on babe, I gave you the jacket." One picture of Tony wearing it was now his contact image, where another - the one where there was joy shining in his expression and he looked younger and more innocent than he usually did - was the background image on Steve's phone. He'd also drawn Tony in it several times, and Tony had loved the pictures, even taking one to put in his workshop.

Steve hadn't shown him the ones where Tony was _only_ wearing the jacket. He thought maybe they should go beyond necking on the couch before he admitted to drawing dirty pictures of the guy.

"... you did give me the jacket, yes. But I think dog tags were also part of the deal, and I don't have those yet."

"Only 'cause Bucky took 'em and said I wasn't allowed ta give 'em to you yet," Steve protested, lips twitching with the effort it took not to smile. His friends all loved Tony, and they were afraid Steve would scare him off by going too intense too quick - a valid fear, probably. After all, he was pretty crazy about Tony, and he'd _never_ had a partner fit in so well with his friends, so Steve was kind of all in. They'd all picked up on that, and every single one of them had advised him to slow the fuck down.

Good thing he hadn't discussed his thoughts on how he might propose. Someday.

Someday soon, maybe.

Fuck. They were right.

"Well then it's Bucky's fault you don't have a boyfriend yet, isn't it?"

"You're a mean boyfriend."

"Oh my fucking God. I'm ignoring everything that comes out of your mouth from here on out, Steve. You are ridiculous and a menace, because I know you don't give a fuck about being able to say we're 'boyfriends', and you'd be perfectly happy with partner or some shit like that," which was true, but Steve wasn't going to cop to it. "We go on dates, we feel each other up a little and make out a lot, have standing invitations to each other's places," also true, though Steve hadn't been allowed into Tony's workshop, which was probably the only reason he hadn't _actually_ tried to put a ring on it yet. If Tony didn't trust him with that, they weren't ready to get married. But maybe soon... "We are both taken, off the market completely. We're a done deal, you loser."

"No need to get so worked up, Tony."

"... you are unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."

"Didja call just ta tell me that?"

"Accent is just as much off limits as the sad voice, Stevie-kins. And no, that's not why I called even if you are. Maria called earlier and said that the peanut is coming home tomorrow, a few days early. I responded by _not_ offering to buy out one of the higher-end baby stores, so you should be very proud."

"Only 'cause you already had half of one delivered already."

"Steve. Honey-toast. Have you _looked_ at those dresses? They're fucking adorable. She needs them all."

"Sure Tony. And I am proud, ya know. Must have been hard for you." Tony, Steve had learned quickly, loved to spoil anyone within his immediate sphere. He was constantly offering to buy things or have things done for all of them, and it... it sorta hurt. Not because Steve thought he was flaunting his wealth - Tony thought that's what it was, and that had already been the focus of several terse discussions - but because Tony was so desperate to be _liked_. He thought he had to buy his way into people's affections, and it didn't speak well to the type of people he was used to hanging around. Pepper, Bruce and Rhodes were different, but they were probably the only ones. He hurt for Tony when he thought about things like that. Everyone deserved to have friends, real friends who were there for the right reasons; Tony seemed constantly surprised every time he realized that now he had more than three.

"It was, but I digress. Is there anything I can do for you, honey-toast? I know you got it in your head yesterday that you were going to have a fantastic mural painted on the nursery walls before Rayna came home - it's a big room, as I recall. Quite a few walls." He wasn't wrong - the design of the room meant there were a few little nooks and alcoves. They'd all agreed that it was the perfect room for a little girl to grow up in, and had already thrown out not-quite serious suggestions for what each little area could be. There was a reading nook, one for art, and two alcoves - one for science! (emphasis Tony's) and a 'shooting range' for all the toy weapons she would certainly be gifted to her.

Great room to grow up in, a bitch of a room to try and paint in a hurry.

"... I thought I'd have a couple more days," he admitted grudgingly, looking around. "They were thinking she wasn't gonna be ready until the end of the week. It's great that she's coming home, but-"

"You're afraid you won't have time to complete your vision. Bucky and Clint are working, Maria is still not a hundred percent, and Nat deserves some rest and cuddle-time with her wife, so you were gonna try to do it all by your lonesome instead of asking me."

"I didn't wanna bother you. I know you've got a lot on your plate with the company right now. You would have dropped everything if I asked, I know that, but I didn't... you've got an important job. Lots of people depend on you, so I didn't wanna distract you."

"I do have an important job, but I also have an important person in my life who tries to annoy me with the word 'boyfriend'. There's also the matter of his family, who are my friends, and his goddaughter who so deserves the best fucking mural in the history of all murals."

"No pressure," Steve muttered, looking at the half-finished wall in front of him with dissatisfaction.

"Stop it honey-toast, it's going to be amazing. And I know I phrased it as a question, with all that 'anything I can do for you' stuff, but I'm coming over. I'll be there in about an hour - what do you want for food?" Steve felt a smile break out over his face, and some of the internal panic he'd been carrying all day melted away. He could breathe a bit easier, and his muscles relaxed - Tony was coming over, and he'd help however he could. He might even be able to keep Steve grounded and aware of what he could accomplish in the given frame of time. Probably not, but maybe.

"Surprise me," he suggested, letting all of the warm gratitude he felt show in his voice. "You know what I like."

"Not all of it, not yet, but I'm dying to." With that, Tony briefly shifted to what Steve called 'flirting mode', and Steve was totally fine with that - over the phone. Once Tony got to the house, there would be no hanky panky or monkey business, because he needed to get this done. "Now, I mostly do technical drawings, but I'm not all thumbs I promise. So while you wait for me, block in a few of the shapes or something so you can put me right to work while you eat, because I'm guessing you skipped lunch."

"I mean. I had a yogurt?" Despite his own terrible eating habits, Tony could be an absolute bear when it came to making sure everyone else ate. "Half-a one, anyway, before I had an idea."

"You sound like me honey-toast. Block out some stuff in pencil, and you can eat while I do the grunt work. I figure if I get the basic stuff done, you can come in after me and fill in the details. You don't need to be bothered with things as plebeian as those... those roller... painting... things. Is that what they're called? Or do they have an actual name? Whatever they are, you shouldn't have to touch them with those beautiful artist's fingers of yours. Ones I sometimes think I'd love to suck on someday while you feed me fruit, in case you were wondering." Steve couldn't help but start to laugh, feeling a pleasant twist in his stomach and warmth in his chest - Tony was amazing.

"I'm hanging up now, boyfriend."

"You're such a little shit, I cannot believe it. But fine. I'll see you in an hour Stevie-kins."

"See ya then." Sometimes they spent half an hour arguing over who should hang up first, Tony's claims of them dating in a 'grown-up way' notwithstanding. Just then Steve was waaay too busy for that cutesy shit, so he promptly ended the call and got right back to painting. It was pretty quick work to sketch out the basic shapes and labeling them with the right colors - he'd be able to go in with the finishing touches instead of killing himself trying to do it all. And now that Tony had mentioned technical drawings... well. He thought it was best to deviate just a little from his plans.

By the time Tony showed up with food and what looked like milkshakes, Steve had blocked out the rest of the room and was adding the finishing touches to the trunk of the tree that took up most of one wall. He was covered in paint and had been sweating for a while at that point, and he was sure his hair was a mess... but Tony still brightened right up when he first caught sight of Steve like he was the most wonderful thing Tony'd ever seen. That was always the way Tony looked at him, and it was enough to make a fellow blush - which he did, of course, which probably only added to the general mess and disarray of his appearance.

"Stevie-kins!" Tony came right to him and tilted his chin for a kiss, which Steve obligingly dropped on his lips without hesitation. "Burgers okay? Both are the way you like 'em - I ate mine on the way, but one of these shakes is totally mine and I'll probably steal some fries." As he spoke, Steve was taking the plastic bags from him that had to hold the food. Once that hand was free, Tony reached up to grab hold of the collar of his shirt and dragged him down for another kiss. That one quickly turned dirty, and if they weren't in his goddaughter's room, Steve would have pressed Tony up against one of the walls and done something equally filthy. Since it _was_ Rayna's room and most of the walls had least a few spots wet with paint, he managed to resist. When they finally separated, Tony gave a hum of satisfaction. "This is a good look for you, honey-toast," he purred. Steve could feel heat crawling up his cheeks again, but that was a common occurrence when Tony was around.

"So you like me all messy, huh?" he teased, giving Tony one more quick kiss before moving to the center of the room and plopping down on the floor. No way in _hell_ was he risking getting ketchup or mustard or anything on any of the walls. Probably reading his mind, Tony grinned and followed after him. After removing one of the milkshakes from the drink holder, Tony set it down before taking a few slurps of it.

"Okay, so I see things are sorta blocked out-"

"Yup," Steve agreed as he unwrapped one of the burgers - it smelled fantastic, and he suddenly realized just how hungry was. "And I put all the different colors near the wall they'll be used on-"

"Steve. Babe. There's... there's at least a thousand different colors here." Again he felt himself start to blush, so he hid his embarrassment by taking a bite of his food. It was fantastic, and from some greasy spoon that did burgers better than anything else. "That's a great stalling tactic, but you're gonna have to talk about this some time Steve. You have at least a thousand different colors, maybe closer to two-"

"Come off it, Tony. There's mebbe twenty'r so, nowhere near a thousand ya mook." Tony just grinned at him as he set his milkshake down and then shrugged off the jacket of his suit. The move made him realize that his partner was dressed for _work_ , not inventing or painting. His clothes were nice, and probably cost more than Steve had paid for all the paint combined (which had been pretty damned expensive) but Tony didn't even seem to mind. He'd dropped the jacket without a care and was now rolling up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt. "Ya wanna borrow a shirt at least? M'pants won't fit ya, but at leas-"

"Yes! I want a Steve-shirt!" Tony interrupted, lifting a hand in the air and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. It was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen, with the other man's face open and full of joy. God, he loved being alone with Tony, when the masks fell and they were just themselves. "Can I keep it after I get it messy?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed warmly, and not just because he had an awful lot of dreams and fantasies both that featured Tony in his clothes. "Lemme get ya one. Drink your milkshake while I'm gone." The other man agreed and reached for the drink again, but Steve had no illusions that he'd come back just to Tony waiting for him and drinking his shake. No, Tony would already be elbow deep in painting, because he didn't want the 'Steve-shirt' to keep his own from being stained. He just wanted it because it was Steve's.

So he wasn't surprised when he came back to find Tony had already filled in a good portion of the walls in the smaller alcove. He was singing one of the songs he refused to admit to listening to, some pop-y song about milkshakes, so Steve didn't announce his presence right away. He leaned against the door and watched Tony shake his ass along to the beat, torn between finding it sexy or finding it hilarious. His partner was a hot mess, that was for damn sure, and Steve was way more than halfway in love with him.

"You don't even have yard ta bring any boys to," he finally called out, enjoying the way Tony froze and then slowly turned towards him. Poor guy probably hadn't even realized he was doing it. "Better not be bringing any over to mine."

"Steve! Stevie-kins, shnookie lumps, whisper feet, sneaky butt. I don't know what you think you saw," he wasn't really as nervous as he sounded, Steve was pretty sure, 'cause his eyes were full of good humor. Maybe he didn't mean for Steve to catch him at it, but he didn't actually mind. "But I can assure you it was a hallucination brought on by the paint fumes. Gimme my Steve-shirt please!" Steve rolled his eyes but walked across the room, bending to grab his milkshake on the way, handing Tony his shirt when he got there.

"There ya go. Feel free to get it messy - I notice ya already got some paint on your nice clothes."

"The people who wash them will appreciate the challenge," Tony answered with a careless shrug that made Steve snort. Instead of heading to the bathroom to change, he just stripped out of that white shirt of his and let it flutter to the floor. Underneath was a white tank top that he totally could have painted in, but Steve was kind of glad he wasn't going to - he would have found it extremely distracting. Tony was pretty damned muscular for someone who never worked out in the traditional sense, and the thought of those biceps covered in sweat and paint was just... just not conducive to getting the nursery done, not even a little. They probably would have ended up fucking against the wall, and that wasn't what he had in mind for their first time. It would have been fun as hell, but still - it was better it didn't happen.

Tony pulled on the old t-shirt of Steve's, one that was a faded blue with a white star on the chest. "You can keep that as long as you wanna."

"So forever then? Forever sounds good."

"Forever then," he agreed quietly, searching Tony's eyes. Much to his delight, his partner started to blush a few seconds later - an event as rare as it was fantastic. "Get paintin', Tony." After softening the command with a quick kiss, Steve returned to his little floor picnic to eat. As he filled his stomach he got to look his fill at Tony, which he didn't mind a bit. Despite that, he didn't take any longer than he needed, not with so much left to do. Once he got back to work, they settled into an easy silence that was only broken when Tony had a question or Steve checked in on how he was doing.

Maria and Nat stopped in a few times to see how they were doing. As soon as Maria started snapping pictures, he knew they were on the right track. Nat was smiling as she traced her fingers over a few of the dried areas, which Steve took as a high compliment. They both tried to get Steve and Tony to take a break, but they refused... at least until Nat brought them a snack plate and ordered them to eat. Clint got home at eleven and immediately joined them after he'd chased Nat and Maria into their bed. Bucky joined them at about one in the morning, just in time to help them get the drop clothes out and move the furniture back in. When it was finally done and they could stand back and take a look, Steve decided that all the hard work had been worth it.

It was a nature themed room, with twilight colors in the area that housed the crib, moving to a sunny day on the other side of the room. On one of the bigger walls, there was a royal poinciana - Maria's favorite tree, one she wished could grow in their climate - with bright orange blossoms and bird silhouettes among the branches. There were other smaller, less detailed trees and the shapes of other animals playing among them. Toward the floor on the 'sunny' side were flowers, and towards the ceiling on the 'twilight' side were star constellations. They only breaks in the theme were the alcoves, where the 'sky' colors subtly shifted to something different. The nook that Steve thought would be perfect for reading and relaxing had a castle theme with a small gold dragon 'napping' under the window. The 'art' nook was loosely inspired by Jackson Pollock - both Tony and Clint had greatly enjoyed splattering paint all over the white walls. The alcove Clint, Bucky and Nat were insisting would be a play shooting range was, for the moment, a more kid-friendly circus theme. He'd painted a big-top tent on the back wall, with an elephant on one of the side walls and a man walking a tight rope on the other.

The science/studying alcove was his favorite though. He'd given that one to Tony after it had been painted blue; once it was dry, Tony went to town with white paint and his imagination. There were several technical drawings (some of which Steve suspected SI's competitors would be very interested to see), a few different molecules, diagrams of a couple plants, and some quotes from a few different children's books that he'd quickly looked up on his phone. It would be a perfect place for learning, and he was happier than he could say that Tony would always be a part of this room. Sure, some of the other things would be painted over and changed, but he couldn't imagine covering all of Tony's neat lines and lettering with something else. It was the one area he was sure would be appreciated by Rayna through her whole childhood and into her teens.

All the furniture fit with the theme, and Steve knew that Maria and Nat were going to love it when they got to see it in the morning. Which was only a few hours away, but that was fine - it was worth it. Not everything was completely finished, but Rayna would be sleeping in a bassinet in Maria and Nat’s room for a few months. He could sneak in once in awhile after she'd been tucked in for the night to add all the final flourishes. The room was ready enough to count towards Steve's promise.

It was late and they were tired, so there wasn't a lot of talking to celebrate their victory. There was just a lot of back-pounding and shoulder-clapping, and one-armed hugs before they stumbled off to bed. Tony had said he could get a ride home, but that was just bullshit. Steve tugged him along to his own room and pushed him towards the bed. "D'you want a pair of pajama pants?" he asked as he stripped off his jeans. "Or are you fine in your boxers?"

"Boxers is very fine," Tony answered absently while ogling him. "Very good. Yours are nice too."

"Get your pants and that shirt off babe," he advised with a smile. "I don't want paint all over my sheets." Steve wanted to get rid of his own shirt, because he felt gross... but he had a feeling that would completely distract his sleepy partner from getting his own clothes off. "I can give you another shirt if you wanna get out of that tank top too. Yes, you can keep it," he added when he saw Tony's mouth open. Looking smugly pleased, the other man stripped until he was down to his boxers before making grabby hands at Steve.

"Shirt and snuggles," he demanded, a hint of a curve on his lips showing that he was being childish on purpose.

"Yeah yeah. Comin' right up." Steve ignored the wolf whistle he got when he pulled off his shirt and resisted the urge to toss his gross, dirty, painty shirt at the man's head. He didn't bother with a new shirt of his own, just fished one out of his dresser for Tony - he hadn't looked specifically for an Army one, but he wasn't disappointed that he'd get to see his guy wearing it. That shirt he did hurl at Tony's head, grinning when that earned an indignant yelp. Tony glared at him while pulling it on, kept glaring at him as he got under the sheets, and was _still glaring_ when Steve padded over to join him. "C'mon, don't be mad," he teased as he crawled up on the bed, moving until his body was over Tony's, using his hands to hover a few inches above him.

"Not mad.”

"No?"

"No." Tony's hands found their way to Steve's sides, sending a shiver through him. "Just wanted to see how you'd cheer me up."

"So devious, boyfriend."

" _Now_ I'm mad." Even as he said it though, his fingers were dragging along Steve's skin, and if he were a little less gross-feeling and a little more energetic, he'd totally have explored that. "No boyfriend talk until I get my dog tags."

"Gotta take that up with Buck."

"I don't wanna date the Bucky-boo," Tony countered, clearly fighting a smile. "Shouldn't have to talk to him about it."

"Them's the breaks."

"You're so lame."

"You're the one dating me."

"Laaaaame."

"You liiiike it."

"Laaaaaaaaaaa-" Steve cut him off mid-word with a kiss, which Tony seemed pretty happy to return no matter how lame he thought Steve was. As soon as they separated, Tony gave him a calculating look then grinned widely. "Laaa-" Despite realizing exactly what his guy was doing, Steve gave him another kiss, and then another. For a good few minutes, every time he pulled away Tony would start to call him 'lame', dragging out the 'a' until he'd goaded Steve into shutting him up.

It was a really nice way to spend the time before both of them started yawning too much for kisses to be fun anymore. With droopy eyelids and muscles that were starting to feel sore, Steve finally rolled away to land on the bed, making the man grumble as he wriggled his way under the covers before grabbing his phone from the nightstand and using it to turn off the lights. He'd made fun of Tony when he insisted on installing the gizmos that made it work, but it sure had turned out to be useful. His guy stayed on his back, so Steve settled on his side facing him, arm draped over his waist. "Tomorrow," he started, interrupting himself with a yawn. "'Morrow we can raid Bucky's room for the dog tags."

"Kay. I'll be the distraction."

"Mmm. 'S a plan." Tony shuffled a little closer, and Steve gave him a light squeeze before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Night boyfriend."

"Night lame-o."

~.~.~

"Buuuuck. Bucky. Buck-a-boo. Cupcake."

Steve smiled as he listened to Tony try his best to get Bucky to answer him. No one had really been surprised when they'd come to brunch together, Steve still in just his underwear and Tony only adding a shirt to that. They'd been even less surprised when instead of leaving Tony just had his driver Happy bring him a change of clothes. Nat and Maria had taken Clint with them to pick up the peanut, which meant if his guy could keep his best friend distracted, they just might be able to pull it off. Even if they couldn't, it would be a fun little adventure that would drain off their nerves while they waited.

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-" Bucky must have been reading, because he closed his book with a 'snap' that Steve heard from a room away. Sure, he probably could have just gone into Bucky's room and taken the dog tags without him ever knowing even without Tony's 'help', but his guy had insisted on being a 'distraction'.

Steve thought Tony was more likely to turn himself into a 'murder victim' if he didn't get this done quick enough.

So he stopped listening in for the 'signal' Tony was supposed to give him and just moved. A lot of people were surprised at how quiet he could move when he needed to - Steve was sure Bucky didn't have a clue that he'd been listening or that he was in the process of entering his room. That part was easy; _finding_ his dog tags proved to be the real challenge. Bucky wasn't messy, not exactly, but he definitely wasn't as neat as Steve was. So searching even the more obvious places involved a bit of shifting things around - Steve made a point of not really looking at any of it, 'cause he was sure there were things in the mix that Bucky would rather he not see. 

He finally found what he was looking for in Bucky's closet, stuffed inside one of his best friend's shoes - thank God Buck had put them in a ziplock bag first. Once he'd fished them out, he headed back to the living room with a spring in his step. Was it a little soon? Maybe. But he'd been falling for Tony's voice and personality for months before they'd met, and now that they were together everything felt like it had just clicked into place. This wasn't about being able to call Tony 'boyfriend', not really - he was pretty sure they both knew that. 

It was a promise that they had a future.

Things had settled in the living room by the time he got there - Tony and Bucky were even sitting side by side, Bucky's arm thrown over the back of the couch. They were debating about cars and horsepower, all of which Steve knew very little about. He had no intention of joining the conversation, not when he'd be happy just listening in while he snuggled with Tony... just as soon as he let his guy know that he'd been successful. Instead of turning it into a production, he just walked up behind the couch and carefully settled the chain over Tony's neck. His guy gave a soft sound of pleased surprise, fingers quickly finding and wrapping around the tags. Once they had, he tipped his head all the way back, smile almost bright enough to be blinding. Before he could say anything, Steve leaned down and caught his lips in a soft kiss.

"Hey boyfriend," he whispered when he pulled back, grinning when Tony gave a resigned groan.

"Hi... boy... friend," sure it was reluctant, but Steve'd take it.

"There's my guy." He delivered another kiss before hopping over the back of the couch so he could settle in at Tony's side. Steve had sort of expected some kind of challenge from his best friend, but Bucky just gave him a look that was part resigned, part amused. There was a brief scuffle where he sparred with his best friend over who got to have their arm over the back of the couch... and who got to be half-hugging Tony as a result.

Bucky won the battle, but Steve thought the war was his. Because yeah, maybe Tony ended up tucked against Bucky's side, but his head was in Tony's lap. There he could close his eyes while Tony stroked his hair; every once in awhile, he could reach up to brush his fingers over his tags. They kept talking mechanics, which was really almost enough to send him to sleep. If he hadn't known that Clint, Nat, Maria and Rayna would be home soon, he definitely would have dozed. To keep from doing just that, he snagged the book Bucky had put aside and started reading it himself. The minutes melted away, until the sound of a car pulling up had them all tumbling off the couch in an eager pile. In an unspoken effort not to overwhelm the peanut, Bucky went to get the door while Steve and Tony hung back.

Maria was carrying Rayna, and she and Buck stepped off to one side so he could greet the baby. Nat and Clint came to them and there were hugs all around - Steve couldn't help but notice that their eyes lingered on the tags around Tony's neck. It left him with the urge to puff his chest out with pride, but he manfully resisted, concentrating instead on helping Clint get everything they'd brought from the hospital to the nursery. Before they could head back to the living room, Clint grabbed hold of his shoulder.

"Soooo..."

"Yeah?" Steve asked tiredly, hoping his friend wasn't about to enter 'I'm a little shit' mode.

"... I wanna come with you when you go to pick out the ring." Relief had him laughing and agreeing, which in turn made Clint grin broadly and toss his arm over Steve's shoulders. They walked into the living room like that, but as soon as they got to the doorway Steve stopped cold and Clint carried on without him. 

In the hospital Tony had been the only one not to hold Rayna. He would go in and talk to her, stroke her little arms and legs just like the doctors advised, but he wouldn't pick her up or let either mother hand her over. He'd been sarcastic and flippant in turn when he'd been asked about it; Steve had known he was just incredibly scared that he'd do it _wrong_ and hurt her. They had all tried to teach him, help him feel more comfortable, but if he were being honest Steve had started to lose hope. He'd started to think that maybe Tony wouldn't hold her until she wasn't a baby anymore.

Yet there his guy was with Rayna cradled gently in his arms with Maria standing at his side, a smile on her face. Tony looked equal parts terrified and amazed as he stared at her, and Steve felt warmth spread through him, slow and sweet as honey. When Maria gently corrected his hold, Steve half-expected him to just hand the baby back - and that wouldn't have lessened the surge of affection Steve was feeling in the slightest. But when Tony visibly gulped, then shifted slowly, carefully, like Rayna was the most precious thing in the world, he was almost swept away by the urge to propose to Tony right then. He wanted to propose and then drag Tony to his bed, not to come out for at least a day and a half. He'd never really understood that whole 'men with babies are sexy' thing, but now he _totally_ got it.

He must have been staring, because suddenly Clint popped into his field of vision. The idiot pointed to his left ring finger in what was possibly the least covert way ever before mouthing 'remember I get to help', and Bucky snorted with the effort it took not to laugh out loud. Steve only managed to glare at his friends for a second or two before Tony and Rayna captured his attention again.

Tony had leaned down slightly, probably to talk to her - he did love to talk, _especially_ when he was nervous. The move had caused Rayna's attention to focus in on the shiny dog tags hanging from his neck, and she was now gurgling as she reached for them. Her adorably chubby little fingers brushed over them, making them clink in the strangely silent room... and a brilliant, beautiful smile broke over Tony's face. Steve realized he'd just watched Tony fall in love... and it was an awful lot like the look he wore when he looked at Steve. He didn't give a fuck what anyone else said - he hadn't handed over his tags too soon, and Clint wasn't all that far off with his ring talk either probably.

In that moment, Steve had everything he needed to make him truly happy. They were all home, healthy and together, with the future looking even brighter than Tony's smile.


End file.
